Bodyswap
by Shiva491
Summary: England and America bodyswap in the middle of the night. Neither knows why. Then they wake up, and things go downhill from there. Rated T for England's language and limited violence. Comedy, but mostly not crack.
1. Discovery

For a long time, the sort of Fanfiction that has entertained me most was the not-so-serious funny kind. You know, the stuff that makes you laugh. Think 'Uninvited Guests' (Bleach. And if you are familiar with Bleach, and haven't read that fanfic, you need to. Just don't read it anywhere that people would look at you weird if you suddenly burst into uncontrollable laughter.). However… comedy isn't exactly the genre I lean toward.

I recently got into Hetalia Axis Powers (Which, of course, I don't own. By the way, if you don't know what Hetalia Axis Powers is, you really shouldn't be reading this fanfic, as the series can be potentially very offensive, and if you find it so I have no idea what you're doing here.). By the time I was finished, I just couldn't get this idea out of my head, despite the fact that it was cliché. Eventually, I ended up writing this out.

This is my first serious attempt at comedy, and is thus run primarily by Rule of Funny. For this same reason, I desperately want feedback on whether this is any good.

I try and update this fic once every week during the summer and once every month during the school year. I generally do a pretty good job of this—at the time of this writing, I've been late with two out of 30 updates.

Oh, by the way: a line across the page signifies a change in point of view, unless it's at the end of a chapter, in which case it might not.

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><p>Something was ringing. Loud. Again and again. beep! beep! beep! beep! beep! beep! beep! beep!<p>

…_.Uu_ (beep!) _uuHhh…._ thought America, still half asleep. _Coulda_ (beep!) _sworn I hadn't plugged that_ (beep!) _new alarm clock in yet_ (beep!) _…I told someone I did, though,_ (BEEP!) _didn't I…_

**BEEEEE BEEEEEE BEEEEE BEEEEEE BEEEEEEEEEEEP!**

"Yugaaahh!" he finally pulled himself up, flailing wildly in the direction of the noise, hoping to hit the snooze button. He must have hit it, because it stopped beeping. He promptly laid back down again, eyes closed.

_Geez, it's not even dawn yet… Who set that thing this early on Saturday morning…..?_

America was already falling back asleep when something nudged him on the side. Something a little wet. For him, this was a little unusual. He finally snapped awake when the wet thing nudged him again.

Of course, he still wasn't expecting what he saw. For America, getting nudged awake by a unicorn was in no way a "little" unusual. For a while he just stared at it. There was no way it was real. Probably someone's prank. Maybe UK's.

Nevertheless, he reached out and gave the unicorn's horn a tug. When it didn't come off, the only creature more surprised than him was the unicorn.

"Neeiigh!" it started screeching, evidently in pain. The two fairies that flew up behind it to find out what was going on didn't really help America's confusion. But the ghost that came fluttering up after them did a pretty good job of deciding his reaction.

"GYYYYYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!" America screamed. The assorted fantastic creatures had scarcely a second to wonder what his problem was before he had escaped the room.

"Aahh!" "Aahh!" he panted, racing through the corridors. _Did someone _kidnap_ me? I don't recognize any of this place! And there's weird stuff everywhere! ..and.. ..and.._

It was about this point that he noticed the ghost had recovered from its surprise and was coming after him.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" America continued at the top of his lungs. Now panicked, he took a few more turns and ducked into the first door he noticed, swinging it shut behind him. He noticed it had a lock and quickly shut it. Then he slumped behind the door, feeling unusually out of breath.

Fortunately, the ones chasing him seemed to have been fooled, and there weren't any other crazy creatures in this room. Unfortunately, the room was a bathroom, and contained a rather large mirror.

America froze in shock as he saw the mirror. Looking back at him was a somewhat scuffy, disheveled person in a dark green uniform with darker boots, dirty blond, fairly messy hair, and eyebrows like giant fuzzy caterpillars.

Looking back at him was UK.

* * *

><p><em>mmmmmm.. . the sun's in my eyes… <em>

England slowly realized that there was something wrong with that statement, but he was still asleep enough to not be completely sure what it was. Something about the sun. That wasn't right. He never woke up with the sun in his eyes. _Except for those few times I got really drunk…Ahh, crud, I did drink last night, right? _

With that thought he finally opened his eyes up. He ended up in the weirdest places sometimes when he got drunk.

But unlike America, England recognized the bed he woke up in. He started to blush. He'd gotten drunk and ended up in America's bed.

FUCK_! What the _HECK_ did I _DO_?_

_At least I'm not naked, _he noted_. Though I'm pretty sure this shirt isn't mine._

He got out of bed. Staying there wasn't exactly explaining anything, and if for some reason this wasn't what it looked like, England felt that he'd rather not be caught where he was.

It wasn't long before he realized America must have moved the bed. He didn't recognize this area, though he recognized enough of the furnishings to be sure that it was indeed America's house.

Consequentially, it wasn't long before he was hopelessly lost. Realizing this, he backtracked, thinking that maybe he'd just taken a wrong turn.

Of course, by the time England found America's bedroom again, he'd realized that something wasn't quite right. For one, he hadn't seen America. For two, his hair had apparently been dyed bright blond, his hands weren't quite the right size, his line of sight was just a little bit higher, and all in all, he felt different in a way that was slowly starting to worry him even more than the way he'd woken up.

In fact, by the time England actually found a mirror, he wasn't quite as surprised as one would expect to see America looking back at him. Of course, that didn't mean he wasn't surprised at _all_.

"WHAT THE **FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK**?" he screamed at the top of his lungs.

* * *

><p>"<strong>UUUUUUUCK<strong>?..."

Tony woke up as America's voice slowly died off. This in itself was hardly an unusual event. America was often loud, and even more often forgot that others might still be sleeping. In fact, it occurred so regularly that anyone who stayed at America's house for any extended period of time eventually ended up using him as a late-Saturday-morning alarm clock.

But even America wasn't usually siren-level loud. And Tony couldn't help but wonder what could possibly have made him cuss so seriously. Even the whale must have heard (and was probably just as worried).

So, extremely curious and a little concerned, he got up and went looking for America.

* * *

><p>Of course, England wasn't America. He realized pretty quickly that he'd probably woken anyone in America's house up.<p>

_Shit. Is there anyone who lives here? I think Russia took Lithuania during that whole fiasco, but he made friends with that whale, didn't he (though it probably couldn't do anything)? Oh… and that alien bastard…but does he actually sleep here? _

Even so, England decided that it was in his best interest to vanish before anyone found him. He didn't really want anyone to know about this mess-up, for one. However, he had managed to get himself lost the last time.

So a few minutes later (after getting dressed in some [marginally, in his opinion] more appropriate clothes), he decided to go out through the window.

_Geez, where's the latch on this thing? Oh, there it is._

He pulled it up and swung out, landing on the grass outside with a thud. Grinning in appreciation of his own slyness, England slunk around the corner of the house.

* * *

><p>The whale briefly wondered why America looked so mortified when he turned around the corner of the house (and saw the whale watching him). Oh, well. He was probably playing hide and seek, or something like that. The whale went back to sleep, content that his friend was safe and the whole business had been resolved.<p>

* * *

><p>As soon as England got far enough away from America's house, he broke into a run. Getting caught by America's whale friend hadn't exactly improved his mood, and he wanted to get back to his own house, where he knew where to hide, and might possibly find something in one of his spellbooks to explain what the heck was going on.<p>

A little while after thinking that, England realized that if he had woken up in America's house (and in America's body), then it wasn't exactly unlikely that the reverse was true as well.

At that, he started sprinting.


	2. Getting in UK's house

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia. That's probably a good thing—I'm American. XD

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><p>Meanwhile, several exotic creatures were getting increasingly worried about their friend, who they were having some difficulty finding. The few times they had found England hadn't exactly helped either (one ghast thought he was going to go deaf after a couple run-ins).<p>

Most weren't quite as worried as one might expect, though. After all, this was England. Really, many said, the most exciting mystery was how England had managed to get himself that drunk in his own house.

A few, however, continued to insist that something was majorly wrong. Yeah, England was a crazy drunk, but this was too consistent to be called crazy. And the unicorn had some story about England nearly pulling his horn off which the others had a hard time believing (Even a drunk England wouldn't do something like that [right?].).

But hey, better safe than sorry. Quite a few of them kept looking. And the screams made it sort of hard for the others to disbelieve their tales.

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><p>An hour or two later, England showed up at his own front door, pleasantly surprised to find he wasn't out of breath.<p>

Of course, the door was a bit of a problem. He didn't have his keys, and he was unpleasantly surprised to find that the spare he kept hidden for such situations was nowhere to be found.

_Great. I can't get in my own front door_, England wryly observed.

So he did what any sensible person would have done, of course. He rang the doorbell. And waited.

* * *

><p>"So…" a flying bunny asked. "Should we let him in?"<p>

"Nah," its companion replied. "I don't think England had any appointments today, so America's probably just dropping in for the heck of it. I, for one, don't want to deal with him if I don't have to."

"Aren't you afraid he'll tear down the door, or something? I've heard he's done stuff like that before."

"Actually, I've never heard that before. Japan told me America came in through the window once, but his door looked fine. Wouldn't surprise me, though."

"Soooo… should we let him in?"

"No. We've got enough problems as it is, with England still this drunk. He wouldn't [when sober] want us to let America in when he's like that, anyway. We're doing him a favor. Hopefully, America will just leave. After all, he's not exactly very patient. Heck, I'm surprised he hasn't already wandered off."

* * *

><p>Five or so minutes (and a fair number of knocks) later, England decided there was a limit to his patience. He had heard someone running around inside (which certainly hadn't made him any less anxious). He knew his doorbell was working. So why wasn't anybody answering the damn door?<p>

_Oh, wait. They think I'm America._ Yeah. Suddenly the reason was crystal clear.

Of course, that also meant there was a good chance they weren't planning on letting him in at all. Sighing, he started walking around the backside of his house. He moved the key's hiding spot fairly frequently (to keep France from knowing where it was-after the imbecile had accidentally found it once, England had decided that extra measures had to be taken to ensure the following chain of events were never made possible again), so it wasn't uncommon for one of his fantastic friends to have returned it to an old hiding spot, for various reasons.

_Actually, I haven't seen any of my friends since I got here_, England realized. _Which means that something unusually interesting is probably going on inside. _

This thought happened to coincide with a bloodcurdling scream that he easily recognized as his own._ FUCK. I don't like the sound of that._

* * *

><p>And so the flying bunny got to see firsthand that America did indeed rip open windows.<p>

* * *

><p><em>Oh, great,<em> England thought. _I hadn't meant to break that. But at least I'm in._

He dropped into his own house, feeling a semblance of normalcy for the first time in the whole chaotic day.

Which was promptly shattered when he heard the scream again, this time a bit closer. It was about this point that England realized that he didn't really have any idea what to do.

He still didn't know what to do when he saw himself run in through the door.


	3. Summations and Ghosts

Disclaimer: Hetalia is not mine.

I think at this point I'd like to point out that I sometimes change details in my stories after I've published them. I'll look back through what I've written and realize that something I've said conflicts with something I want to do later, or that I could make a scene funnier by changing something around.

I'll explain why I'm mentioning this now at the bottom.

But anyway, back to the craziness!

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><p><em>Man, is there no END to these things? And I'd thought I'd finally gotten away, too…<em>

America quickly shut the door behind him before realizing that he'd seen …himself… standing in the middle of the room.

But no hero should be indecisive. Despite the zaniness of the situation, he charged straight ahead.

"Yo. You wouldn't happen to know what's going on, would you?"

* * *

><p>"<em>Yo?"<em> England cringed. _Yeah, that's America, all right. Fuck._

"Actually, I was going to ask you pretty much the same question. It's England, by the way."

Several moments passed in silence before America summed the situation up.

"Well…this is awkward."

At which England decided to expand the summary slightly.

"No, really? We've swapped bodies with each other, for apparently _no reason at all_, in the middle of the night. We have no idea how to fix this. We have a world meeting on Tuesday, and I have no doubt that there are plenty of people there who would either a) mock us mercilessly, or worse, b) immediately try to use the situation to their benefit. This wouldn't be quite so bad, except I've swapped with YOU and that means that to hide this whole thing (and stall for time) I'd have to act like a total IMBECILE, and that's assuming that YOU could POSSIBLY fool half the WORLD into thinking you're me-and let me tell you, if it weren't actually happening to me, I'd be laughing my head off at the prospect, because you're just bound to fail miserably, or even worse, fail miserably but convincingly enough that said half the world thinks I've gone bonkers. I've spent half the morning wondering what the heck you might have been getting up to all this time, and now I'm here, feeling like I'm looking in a mirror except creepier because I know I'm _not_, and it's constantly reminding me of just how messed up this situation is, and just how impossible it seems to fix it."

For a second, England thought he'd impressed upon America the full seriousness of the situation.

"Aah, come on. It can't be _all _bad."

England was about to point out just how wrong that was when he realized that there was _one_ thing nice about the whole situation.

"Yeah," he said smugly, reaching out to tussle his (well, at the moment, America's) hair. "I'm taller than you now."

"Hey! Stop that!"

England obliged, partly out of courtesy, and partly because it felt rather weird. America just looked so…uptight. Offended. The way England would have looked if someone had done the same to him. It wasn't at all like America.

America looked up and seemed to notice something. England was then vaguely disturbed to see what he looked like grinning mischievously. That was a little bit _too_ much like America.

"What's so funny?" England asked, now annoyed.

"Oh, it's just that you're always getting mad about me being overzealous and stuff, but you've been me for a few hours and you've already broken into someone's house through the window."

England almost hit him before realizing that America had a point. Of course, he wasn't exactly pointless either.

"I did it because I heard _you_ screaming your head off, idiot!"

And he had the satisfaction of seeing America go straight from smug to horrified.

Not one to let such an opportunity pass, England continued. "And-

"Shhh! Not now. It might have heard us!" America interrupted in a low, panicked voice that England also found rather disturbing. "…and I don't see any other doors leading out of this room," he added, even more panicked, now looking back at the door he came in.

Suddenly, America froze. England looked at the door, wondering what the heck had scared him stiff.

Then America screamed. Again. _My ears…!_

And then he headed for the window.

"Oh, no you don't," England practically growled. _That's one of my favorite outfits, and I just _know _you'll manage to destroy it on that glass._

So he grabbed America and wrenched him away from the window. The latter, in his terrified panic, struck out wildly and didn't really end up putting up much of a resistance.

"Let me goooooooooo!" America wailed. "That ghost is getting closer!"

"Calm _down_, you blasted moron! There's nothing there!"

"Have you gone _blind_?"

"Crud, America, everyone knew you were crazy, but I didn't think you were _delusional_!"

America suddenly went very still again, his eyes fixed on something just in front of England's face. This was, of course, because the ghost had heard England call America just that, and was now trying to ask him what the heck was going on (and, naturally, if he was England). When it became evident that the effort was futile, it turned back towards America, who promptly started screaming again.

It was about then that England figured it out.

_I can't see them_, he realized numbly. _America's screaming about one of my friends, but I'm him, and I can't see __**anything**__. Even in my own house. I can't see my friends._

Realizing that England had relaxed his grip (if not understanding why), America wormed his way free and nearly got out the window before England snapped out of it and grabbed him again.

"Ummm, ghost?" England addressed the empty room, "Could you please leave for a second so America can think rationally (well, more rationally than this)?"

It must have complied, because America relaxed. A little. England let him go.

At which point he went straight out the open window, tearing the outfit in the process.

_Bastard. _

* * *

><p>AN:

I mentioned that I'll occasionally go back and change details in my stories. I'm doing that now because England mentioned a date for the world meeting-which is, as of the writing of this note, Tuesday-which has already changed three times and has a very high chance of being changed again.

So, in general, if at some point you think 'wait… isn't that wrong?' about a detail in one of my works, there's a good chance it's because I changed something in an earlier chapter.

I felt the need to explain this because it's the sort of thing that would get on my nerves if I didn't know, and because I'm not sure this is standard procedure for fanfic or not-for instance, the author of Uninvited Guests (Funniest Bleach Fanfic ever. See my profile.) openly declared that since he wasn't publishing the fic for a book or anything, he wasn't going to go back and rewrite a chapter that was originally written at 2:00 am (and thus was not of the typical high quality).

But yeah…logic aside, please review!


	4. A second nice thing

Yes, I know this chapter is short. That's part of the reason why it's early (I try to update every Thursday-Fridayish). I figured people would rather have a short chapter now than a long chapter later.

I really want feedback on this chapter. You'll probably see why in a moment…

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><p>America ran away from the house as fast as he could in England's body. Unfortunately for him, his natural body was a fair bit faster.<p>

Thus it wasn't long before he could see England behind him, looking rightfully pissed, tearing through the undergrowth without breaking a step.

_Scaaary…!_ America thought. _I'm not really that scary, right?_ If he hadn't already been sprinting, he'd have ran faster. Not thinking too carefully, he tried to leap straight to the top of a small tree. But most people can't jump more than two or three feet off the ground. He hit the tree hard.

_Ooowwww…_

* * *

><p>England nearly facepalmed when he saw America hit the tree. <em>What the heck was he trying to do?<em>

At least it gave him the chance to catch up all the way to America. _I've got to find some way to stop him from running off again,_ he thought, exasperated. Unfortunately, he picked the wrong way.

"Now," England said, still pissed about America ripping his outfit, "We're going to go back to my house and have a little talk. Okay?"

One must give America some credit. Despite being exhausted, cornered, and still rather terrified, he bluntly said, "No way."

At that England just said, "You know what? Screw this."

He slung America over his shoulder and started walking back towards the house, ignoring the protests of the now much weaker nation.

England grudgingly admitted, privately, _Okay_, two _things nice about this whole situation_.

* * *

><p>By the time he got there, a small crowd of fantastic creatures had gathered at the gate. At this, America renewed his efforts to escape.<p>

It was then, straining with all the strength he could muster, that America realized he simply couldn't compete. For the first time, he really understood just how much stronger his body was than England's.

Well, he'd always known he was stronger. But in a way, he'd never stopped thinking of England as the Great British Empire, as the older brother that had raised him, the power that, for a long time, he never could have raised a hand against. He knew that things had changed. He just hadn't realized just how much. Even when they ended up getting into scuffles in meetings, he had always somehow assumed that England wasn't really giving it his all, much the way he wasn't. But now…he might as well have been encased in concrete for all his efforts were worth.

For the first time in his recent life, America felt helpless.

And a little guilty.


	5. Insults and the Attic

Disclaimer: Hetalia is not mine.

I know I put up a chapter already this week, but I happened to have this ready, and the next chapter well under way, so….I figured nobody would be upset that I'm breaking my schedule to put out an extra chapter.

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><p>England could guess pretty easily that there were fantastic creatures waiting for him by the way America was reacting. However, he was in a bad mood, and wanted some answers out of America.<p>

He was still a gentleman, though, so he had the grace to tell the room that he'd explain later before walking straight through the assembled crowd and all the way into his living room (someone had opened the door), where he sat America down on a couch. Apparently, none of the ghosts had followed them, as America wasn't freaking out, but England watched, somewhat amused, as America poked (and was poked by) various insubstantial critters.

"You look like a lunatic," England said.

"You are enlightened," America shot back.

It took England to a few seconds to get it. "Why, you..!"

"You also look like an immature kid when you make that face," America added, apparently on a roll.

"Gee, I wonder why." England remarked dryly.

After a few seconds, it was America's turn to go "Hey!"

"Okay," England said (now serious), "How did you do this?"

"What? I didn't do anything! One night I was watching a movie in bed, the next morning I'm getting woken up way too early by a unicorn! Oh, and your alarm clock is the most annoying thing on the planet. And set way too early. You've got to be the only person I know who sets his alarm clock for 6:45 in the morning _on Saturday_."

"Terry woke you up? You didn't freak out, or do anything to him, did you?" England asked, a little touched to hear the unicorn still did that occasionally, and a little jealous that it had happened to America and not him.

"Well, uh, I gave his horn a pull, but it didn't come off or anything."

The way America said that sort of rapidly made England a bit worried.

"But anyway," America said, "Are you sure _you_ didn't do this?"

"Of course!" England said indignantly. "Why the heck would I want to make this mess?"

"I dunno, I heard some of the fairies say you got drunk last night…"

England wasn't quite sure what to say to that. He didn't really remember much of last night.

But America didn't press the point. "So, what've you been up to? Did you see Tony? He was staying at my house last night."

"No, I didn't see your alien friend. I basically woke up, saw a mirror, and escaped your house. Then I came over here. You haven't done anything, have you?"

"Your house is full of ghosts," America said, an appropriately haunted look in his eyes. "I spent most of the morning running from them. Oh, and I made myself a sandwich for breakfast. Well, sort of. I couldn't find much that was edible in your fridge."

At that, England realized he hadn't eaten anything, either. "I haven't eaten. Just stay here, I'll make us something."

* * *

><p>As England walked out of the room, America planned his cunning escape from the horrors of British cooking. It pretty much consisted of not being easily found when England came back.<p>

By this time he thought he could probably manage to navigate England's house. Key word: _thought_.

He had _thought _that he'd find the broken window again and escape through it (though he hadn't really planned on doing anything in particular after that). Instead, he somehow ended up in the attic.

America realized he had probably gone the wrong way when he got up there, partly because the room was just full of stuff gathering dust. But he happened to notice one place where the stuff had been pushed aside, and the dust wasn't quite uniform.

He smiled eagerly. Here was something _interesting _to explore!

So he set out through the little path of pushed aside stuff. He noticed paintings and relics and at one point one of the Halloween masks England had scared him with as a kid. Finally, the trail seemed to end. A little clearing had been made, and America could almost see the traces of complicated designs etched in the dust. Off to the side was a large stack of books.

America didn't really believe in magic, but England had used to talk about it often enough. He could guess what those books were. It certainly explained why England would have gone out of his way to hide them in the attic.

Absentmindedly, he flipped one open, and was greeted with a random string of apparently nonsensical words and syllables. _This doesn't make any sense_, he thought, somewhat disappointed. He tried a few others, but didn't see much else.

He was about to look at the smallest of the books when England finished his cooking (if one was brave enough to call it that). Of course, it was somewhat harder to hear what was going on in the rest of the house from the attic, but America could hear well enough.

"_**AAMERICAAA!"**_ England screamed.

"Oh, rats," America said. He pocketed the book and ran back through the path.

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><p><em>Begin Author's note<em>

Unlike the previous chapter, which I liked but also made me somewhat nervous, I really like this chapter. I read back over it and laughed pretty hard.

Do you agree with me? Please review!


	6. Just stopping by

Disclaimer: Hetalia still isn't mine.

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><p>The kid was gone. England had spent about five minutes cooking, and America was gone.<p>

"Fuck. You. **AAMERICAAA!** Get back **DOWN** here!"

_Really, I should have realized that he'd wander off,_ England thought. It didn't actually help him calm down much at all. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more the idea of America wandering his house worried him.

* * *

><p>America sneaked back down stairs and started trying to find the kitchen before England could feed him anything. Somehow, he succeeded. And yes, England had left his poison in the room!<p>

_Well, I suppose I should taste it first. He manages good stuff occasionally,_ America thought (Somewhere, France is crying).

One taste test later verified that England's latest attempt needed to go down the drain, if only for safety reasons. Down the drain it went.

Having eliminated the immediate threat, America aimlessly wandered back into the living room. It only took him one look at England's face to realize that that was a Bad Idea.

The other nation had him pinned against the couch in less than a second.

And then France walked in.

* * *

><p><em>Oh. Oh crud. I forgot to close the door, didn't I<em>, England thought. He was about to treat France to an angry tirade about actually _knocking_ occasionally when America addressed the more immediate concern.

"This is NOT what it looks like!" he said frantically.

_Aah_. England realized, starting to feel red. _Ah no! I can't blush! France would never let me live it down._

_And I don't want him to know about this bodyswap. He might take advantage of it and even more likely, he'd probably tell just about everyone else._ England shuddered at the thought.

"Really?," asked France, who was grinning delightedly. "So what _are_ you doing, then?"

"_Don't tell him!"_ England whispered to America. England then scrambled for an excuse. _What WOULD America say in this situation?_ he wondered. He then promptly found out.

"See, America wanted me to watch a movie in bed with him like we used to 'cause he was scared but I'm busy and said no and I'm still not sure why he tackled me.." America rambled on.

_WHAT?_ thought England. _What the! No way! _

England was about to deny it when France gave him a knowledgeable look that made him want to take a bath for three straight hours just to get the squickiness off. "Aah, well then," said France, "I'll leave you to your little… dispute." And then he _winked_ at England.

Mentally, England corrected his previous thought. He wasn't going to forget that for at least six hours.

At least France walked out of the room. _Oh great. That's not the direction of the door. He wants to stay and_ listen.

But for the moment, there were more pressing concerns. "What the _hell_, America? Were you _trying_ to make me sound like a pervert? You could have at least left out the bed part!" England whispered.

"That's not perverted!" America protested (still quietly, however). "We used to do that all the time! It's totally the sort of thing you'd say, too."

England wanted to kick him, but decided that was too severe. Instead, he muttered, "I can't BELIEVE you just said that," and started dragging America out of the door. Of course, that wasn't a petty revenge. Certainly not, he was a gentleman! He just needed to get America and himself out the door, and he was in a bad mood and didn't feel like talking this one out. That, and America had just displayed a _remarkable_ lack of common sense…

"Hey!" said America indignantly (and considerably louder than previously). "Hey, stop it! Where are you taking me?"

"Away from France. And keep your voice down."

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><p>Begin Author's Note:<p>

Okay, people. I like the idea here, but looking back makes me feel a bit like it could have been written better. Suggestions?

Please review!


	7. Blackmail and Travel

Disclaimer: Hetalia is not mine.

Before I go any further—today I'm leaving for a week-long trip to Alaska. It's highly unlikely that I will have access to a computer through which to post the next chapter (though I will be writing it). Conclusion? Next chapter may be a bit late.

I would like to thank ChineseIsGreek2Me for catching a plot hole and RasalynnLynx for some good ideas. I'd also like to thank xMaddie for faithfully reviewing every chapter.

But for now, enjoy!

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><p>France turned back from the slit in the door he'd been recording the whole thing through (using his cellphone, of course. It was hardly an appropriate medium for such an artist as himself, but when inspiration strikes, one must make do). He hadn't caught most of the dialogue, but it wasn't like he needed it to get what was going on. Tears of mirth threatened to overflow.<p>

"America's all grown up (though his taste is still truly horrendous)…" he sighed softly, somewhat wistfully.

"...and Angleterre," he smiled devilishly, "This may make some wonderful blackmail."

* * *

><p>"Are we far enough yet?" America complained.<p>

"Yes. Yes, we're probably far enough," England said, irritated. America hadn't asked this quite as often as one would expect, but…there was a reason he was irritated. "But there's a park just up here where we can sit down."

England was correct. He stopped and sat down on a nearby park bench. America, who had been walking along beside him, sat down too.

"So…what now?" America asked.

England sighed. "We stay here for a while. My friends won't let France sabotage my kitchen (probably) so he should lose interest and leave fairly quickly. After that, though, he might stay a bit longer than normal."

"France sabotages your kitchen? Is that why your food's so bad?" America asked innocently.

"There's nothing wrong with my cooking!" England protested. At America's expression, he fiercely added, "That wasn't a question."

"Well, okay," America said, stifling a giggle and changing the topic. "So…after France leaves?

"Well, I was thinking that maybe I could find something in one of my spellbooks to change us back…"

America looked at England sadly. "England, this is the 21st century. There's no such thing as magic."

England looked at America like he was an idiot. He was about to tell America that he had _seen_ magic before when he realized suddenly that the boy hadn't actually seen (and remembered) anything that he couldn't explain as random chance.

Well, that could be fixed. Soon as they got back to his house.

"Okay," said America suddenly, "Let's go to my house!"

"What?" asked a startled England.

"Well, we've got some time to kill, right? I got a few new videogames yesterday that I can't wait to try out. C'mon, it'll be fun!"

England couldn't think of any particular reason to disagree. "…fine."

Of course, England couldn't always think of everything.

* * *

><p>Begin Authors note:<p>

There are a couple things I need to clarify about this chapter. First of all is America's stance on magic. If you look through canon, it seems pretty likely that he doesn't believe in magic (sci-fi for the win!). I believe there's an example of this in one of the 2011 April Fools strips. This stance does make the story a little more awkward, however, as we've already been through one event that was probably magical in nature, and there's a good chance we'll go through another. It's also awkward because my knowledge of about how England's magic works is primarily based on the fanfic It's a Small World After All by Bri Nara (Hilarious fanfic. It's on my favorites list). Those of you who have read this fic should probably have already realized why this sort of clashes with America not believing in magic.

However, while I plan to model how England's magic works off It's a Small world, I have a feeling that England in this story is going to be slightly more adept. We'll see how this plays out.

This all adds up to the fact that America's stance on magic is another thing that has a decent probability of getting a retcon.

Secondly, some of you might be wondering why England is okay with just leaving France in his house given that he apparently had a bad experience with said nation getting in unsupervised by finding the spare key. I do have an explanation for this, but I had a hard time working it into this chapter (partly because this is the sort of thing that England would already know and that would not immediately occur to America to ask about), so you'll have to wait for the details.

Wow, that was a long author's note. Please review!


	8. Pizza and Noodles

Hi everyone! I'm back from Alaska. For the most part, I enjoyed the trip. The weather was phenomenal for Alaska (It only rained on one day out of seven). I did some kayaking and hiking and tour bus riding and museum browsing and lots of other stuff that makes for a great trip.

My roommates had some rather annoying habits, however. I did get a few ideas from them, though, which I think I might be able to throw in next chapter.

I was also a fair bit busier on the trip than anticipated, hence why this chapter came out a bit later than expected (though it wasn't late. I'm trying to release at least one chapter every week…and so far I've managed it. I just got used to releasing them on Sunday).

Hetalia is not mine. At some point I'm going to figure out some new creative way to do the disclaimer. I hope.

* * *

><p>"So, America, you're sure that alien would have left by now?" England asked.<p>

England had already asked him the same question twice. America couldn't help but think that it was cute the way England cared so much about Tony.

"I'm sorry, England, but Tony won't be here today. I know you're good friends, but he told me that he had something to do and would be leaving around noon. It's already around three." America said regretfully.

Behind him, England was silently giving an expression of _dear lord, just how oblivious can this kid be?_, but America didn't notice that.

They took the last turn to America's house.

"Aaah," said America cheerfully, "It's good to be home!" He privately added, _and away from all those creepy ghosts!_

They walked up to the door, which America just pushed open. England sweatdropped. He didn't even lock the door? At night?

They were walking down a hallway. America whistled tunelessly (In England's voice. Needless to say, the pitch was off by a fair bit). England cringed.

"Could we get something to eat first?" England interrupted. "I left the lunch I made at my place."

America quickly said, "Don't worry, I've got some leftovers in the fridge!" and ran off, relieved that he'd managed to keep England from offering to cook.

Of course, that left England waiting for America. And we all remember what happened the_ last_ time we got in this scenario…

* * *

><p>Fortunately, England was a (little) bit more responsible than America. After wondering for a moment what had possessed America to run off so quickly, he continued down the hallway, and sat down on the first couch he found (in a living room of some sort).<p>

Fortunately, he didn't have to wait very long and, consequently, didn't get annoyed enough to do anything rash.

Unfortunately, that was because America had grabbed the first thing he could find in the fridge.

England eyed the old-looking pizza in distaste, and noted with displeasure the lack of tea (not that he was really expecting any from America). America, meanwhile, was (mostly) happily chowing down.

"You know, this stuff tastes a lot, I dunno, greasier than I thought it did the first time," America commented, eyes furrowed in concentration. "I guess it didn't reheat that well."

This, of course, did nothing to improve England's attitude towards the food.

"Oh yeah," said America, looking up at England, perhaps noticing that the older nation hadn't touched the pizza.

England briefly wondered if maybe America had actually realized that his food was not being well-received. He quickly scoffed at the sudden thought. The idiot couldn't read the atmosphere to save his life.

He was quickly proven correct. "I just remembered. Is it really okay to let France just wander off? Didn't you throw a fit a little while ago just 'cause he broke in your house or something?"

"First of all, I didn't 'throw a fit,' as you put it," England said stuffily. "Secondly, it was hardly 'just' because he broke in (England would have added "Which he didn't actually do. He found my spare key," but he didn't really want to explain the concept to a nation who just _left the door unlocked_), though that would have been enough to upset me. He…really messed up my house, in addition to some …other things (that I'd rather not talk about). Finally, I should be fine this time. I moved my bedroom to a room with a lock (and no windows), so my clothes should be safe, and I fixed a few other things up too to make it harder for him to get to anything important."

"What other things?" America asked curiously.

"Oh, I changed a few sig-"

"No, what did France do?"

England nearly blushed. How the heck had America already forgotten this? He had been at that meeting (and had been laughing his ass off, along with just about every other country)…

"Oh. OH! I remember now!" America said excitedly. "That was the time that France swapped all your clothes out and you had to come to the world meeting dressed like a—"

Now openly blushing, England yelled "SHUT UP!", clamping his hand over America's mouth. He heard muffled laughter and tightened it.

A few minutes later, America seemed to calm down. England removed his hand. America stifled a chuckle as the other nation glared at him furiously.

"Heh," America said, smirking. "That was hilarious…"

England tried to stare daggers at him and ended up looking more like a sulky kid. Fortunately, America had already moved on to other topics, and didn't comment.

"So…what were we talking about?" he said instead.

England subtly pushed the pizza away. He'd find something better than that crap later. "I believe you wanted to show me some video game or another?"

England was shocked at how fast America managed to pull him up out of the seat, especially given their current circumstances. The overly enthusiastic country ran off yelling "Yeah! This way! It's gonna be awesome!" (England had managed to free himself from the grab-fortunately. He'd have been dragged along the carpet otherwise).

England sighed and followed, thinking _hyperactive brat_…

* * *

><p>Begin Authors Note<p>

England! Why'd you have to cut America off? Now the audience will never know the full details…probably a good thing, given that France picked the outfit out…

I originally had a rather long rant here about difficulties I had writing the first section of this chappie, but when it reached a full page I realized that it was pretty boring and rather ridiculous, so I cut it. Maybe I'll make an omake of all the stuff I've cut at the end of this whole thing. Then again, there's usually a good reason stuff was cut.

Question: What magical mayhem would you most like to see happen? I currently have the basic direction I want the story going in fairly far in advance, but I'm really having a hard time deciding this—partly because whatever happens is probably going to have a fairly big impact on the plot and partly because there's just SO MANY OPTIONS, and so many of them are good ones—so I thought I'd get the readers advice.

Please answer in review :3.


	9. Showering

…I'm slowing down, aren't I? Anyway, here is this week's chapter. Enjoy!

* * *

><p><em>That was great!<em> America thought. He'd had a lot of fun. He'd beaten England at most of the games, too, which the other nation was still grumbling about.

At the moment, he was (somewhat deliberately) hogging the bathroom, getting ready for bed, while England grew steadily more impatient outside.

"Hurry _UP_, America!" England snapped, his voice muffled from behind the door. "I've been waiting out here an _hour_ already!" [More than that, actually, but America didn't wear a watch, so England could only approximate.]

"Almost done!" America said happily. He heard the muffled sound of something banging against a wall.

A few seconds later, he heard England say "You've been saying that for the past twenty minutes! Get your fat arse out of there or I'll… I'll…"

"You know technically, you just called yourself a fat ass," America snarkily replied.

"_Get out of the fucking bathroom_ or I'll break this door down."

America thought about that for a minute. England wasn't the sort of person who just ran around breaking doors down. He was probably bluffing.

"Naah," America said. "I'm almost done, anyway."

What America failed to consider was that breaking the door down was not a practical response for most people, and was thus a major reason that England didn't often break doors down. He also seriously over estimated England's patience.

The hinges only groaned in protest for a few seconds before the door gave way with a resounding **CRACK**.

* * *

><p><em>Thump<em>. The door fell inwards. America narrowly escaped getting pinned to the sink.

England stepped in where the door had been, feeling a little guilty. He hadn't really wanted to tear the door down-it certainly wasn't polite-but he had to back his threats up or no one would take him seriously.

Then England glanced around, and saw America already in his Pj's and not much evidence that the brat had actually been doing anything to get ready for bed. All guilt and remorse instantly vanished.

_That fucking impertinent whelp of a country! _England inwardly raged as he bent down to lift the door back up. _He was already done! That was deliberate!_

"Geez, you could have just gone to another bathroom," America grumbled, inching his way past England, who was still standing where the door had been.

England turned around from where he had been dealing with the door in time to see America escape (_probably to go play more videogames_, England thought, remembering the afternoon. _Like hell those were new_, he thought. America obviously had practice. He certainly wouldn't have been able to beat him so often otherwise.) and vowed to make the idiot pay for this (more than he already had, that is).

But in the meantime, he _finally _had the bathroom to himself.

Well…technically. He had broken the door down, and one could see much of the bathroom through the empty frame.

A few minutes later, England had managed to return the door to more or less its normal position. He took off his clothes and stepped into the shower, and was happy to find that America hadn't taken all the hot water, at least. Maybe tearing down the door was enough.

About halfway through his shower, England heard a soft plunk. Worried, he turned the water off and peeked out the curtain.

His clothes had fallen off the sink into a puddle of water on the floor (and were now soaking wet, and disgustingly dirty to boot).

_Oh, shit_, England realized. _I didn't bring another pair of clothes_.

And while America hadn't taken all the hot water, the only towel was lying on the floor next to his outfit, just as soaked and dirty.

_Okay, it's not that big of a deal,_ England thought. _This is probably a lot earlier than America normally goes to bed_ (Though it wasn't for England, who usually got up early. In fact, he had been the one to say 'enough is enough, let's quit,' and insisted on getting ready for bed for health reasons [Though America couldn't help but disagree on that last one. "Someone lost a few too many times?" indeed.]) _America's probably replaying some videogame or pigging out on late-night snacks or whatever the heck he does. I'll just run down to his room and grab some clothes._

Having talked himself into it, England proceeded to try to do just that. It probably would have worked, too, if not for the most annoying thing on the planet.

* * *

><p>AN:

…Thus a Chekhov's gun is cocked. For those with no idea what a Chekhov's gun is, feel free to look it up-but beware, for the depths of tvtropes conceal a hidden foe so ancient and terrible that all free time flees before it…

Ahem. I may have said earlier that some of my Alaskan roommates had some annoying habits. Taking too long in the bathroom was one of them. This chapter comes from that idea. That's one thing that's nice about annoying situations-they can make for some good humor. At least, I hope this was good humor.

Do you agree? Please review!


	10. Alarms and Doodles

Hi there everyone! First of all: 50 reviews! Wooo! Thanks, everyone! Congrats to Hikari Heartache for giving the 50th review!

I mean, it means a lot to me. Thank you all.

Okay, now for the bad news. I'm afraid my family is going on another trip. We're leaving Friday, and this time we're staying away for 12 days. The odds that I'll be able to update during these days are not that good.

This, of course, would mean that I would lose my perfect once-a-week schedule. I'm going to try to put up another chapter this week (that is, put up next week's early), but I'm not honestly sure I'm going to manage that. If I don't, I'm sorry-but at least you have this fairly long chapter (and a pretty good one, too, in my opinion) as reconciliation.

Hetalia does not belong to me/If it did, what we see/would be quite different indeed.

Enjoy!

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><p><em>Hah!<em> America thought, reaching for an electronic device. _This is the last one!_

See, America was still in his room because England's insistence on getting in bed way too early (what was wrong with him? It was Saturday night!) had reminded America of 'the most annoying thing on the planet'-England's alarm clock.

America had no doubt that the other nation would want to get up ridiculously early to match this ridiculously early preparation for bed (For once, he was absolutely correct). So he had spent the last several minutes hiding every device he could find that had an alarm on it.

He had just gotten to the last one (that he could remember) when England ran in, naked.

_Ah, rats!,_ America thought, quickly hiding the alarm behind his back. England didn't seem to notice, and was in fact lightly blushing, very much embarrassed to find America present.

"Ummmm…" England stuttered. "I'm just going to grab some clothes now…"

"Don't be embarrassed!" America said, slightly grinning. "It's not like I'm seeing anything new."

England looked up, about to snap something nasty at him before he remembered that he was in America's body. Technically, America was being completely truthful. Of course, that brought a whole new level of awkwardness into America's hour-long shower.

Instead of voicing any of this, England turned and reached for the clothes drawer, anxious to just put the situation behind him.

_Now's my chance!_ thought America, squatting down and shoving the alarm under the bed.

"What were you just hiding?" England asked from where he had turned around across the room.

"Nothing!" America said quickly. England raised an eyebrow and strode over to where America was still crouched. Recognizing that he wouldn't be able to hide the clock at this point, America reached out and snapped the cord in two.

England kneeled down behind him and saw the (now broken) alarm clock.

"That was the only thing in my house that had an alarm, by the way," America casually lied. "We are so _not _getting up early tomorrow!" he said rather more excitedly.

England seemed to accept the proclamation. "Where are my clothes?"

"Ummm..the ones I woke up in?" America asked.

"Yes," England said. "It was one of my favorite outfits."

America remembered the tears. Ouch. England must have been mad…

"I left it on that pile. Why?"

England walked over to the pile of clothes America had gestured to. He ruffled through the pile, pulling out every article that was his. Finally, he found what he was looking for-a small wristwatch (that just happened to have an alarm on it) that America had casually discarded among all his other stuff. England held it up, smirking.

"We are _so_ getting up early tomorrow!" England mimicked in a deceptively cheerful voice.

_Nooooooooo!_ America thought. His despair must have shown on his face, because England immediately relented.

"Just kidding. It's not loud enough to wake you up if we sleep in different rooms."

"I'll crash on the couch," America immediately volunteered. That way, he could play pretty much whatever all night.

England must have suspected something along those lines, because he immediately said "If you wake me up playing video games, I will make life hell for you."

"Don't worry, I won't."

"…Good."

* * *

><p>America left for the couch. England got dressed (once again cussing out America's horrible wardrobe-why hadn't he remembered to bring anything decent?) and went back to the bathroom to finish getting ready for bed.<p>

A little while later, England settled into America's bed. He took out the wristwatch and set it, thinking of the previous conversation. He briefly considered looking for other alarmed devices just to catch America lying, but decided that that would be unnecessarily cruel.

It had been a long and physically demanding day, and England quickly fell asleep.

* * *

><p>Tony came back very late (around 2:00 am). He had meant to stay away a while and come back a day or so later, but despite the whale's reassurances, Tony was still worried about America. He could see America leaving through the window inexplicably, but the nation left without even making coffee, which was typical breakfast fare even on Saturday. America could certainly take care of himself (in his own odd way), and it was probably nothing, but Tony came back early regardless.<p>

Tony opened up the back door (not at all surprised to find it unlocked) and went inside. He didn't hear anything moving, but then again, it was 2:00 am. Even America should be asleep.

Tony reached America's room and quietly opened the door. America was lying on the bed, curled up in a fetal position, mumbling something, probably asleep. Tony smiled slightly, feeling relieved.

Then he started walking toward the living room, where he often slept on one of the sofas when he was too tired to pull out a mattress or find somewhere else to sleep, like right now.

He reached the living room and saw England sleeping on the couch.

_That fucking limey took my fucking sofa! _Tony thought, temporarily infuriated. _Why is he even over here? And why the hell is he wearing America's clothes?_

He quickly chalked these questions up to the everyday craziness of dealing with the nations (Remember, he lives with America. He's seen plenty of craziness). No doubt there was an excellent story behind this, however. He'd be sure to ask later.

For a few seconds he just stood there staring at the limey, trying to decide whether or not to wake him up. He finally decided against it-much as he'd love to, there were other couches, and the bastard would probably hit him and then keep him up to boot.

But this was still a wonderful opportunity. Tony took the time to find a marker and came back, sacrificing a few minutes of sleep to embark on the gloriously entertaining task of doodling all over England's face. America would probably be blamed for it, but hey, he was one of the world's superpowers, and England wasn't that much of a threat. He'd be fine.

Finally, Tony hid the marker carefully and went to sleep on a sofa in a second story room.

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><p>AN:

Who of you remembered what the 'most annoying thing on the planet' was? Hands up now!

What was your favorite part of this chapter? For me it was when Tony doodled all over "England's" face.

Answer by review please :3


	11. A locked door

First of all: Hetalia does not belong to me, nor will it ever.

I'd like to thank RasalynnLynx for an excellent idea that finally got incorporated (As mentioned previously, I keep this planned a few chapters ahead, so it took a while for me to incorporate).

Okay, okay! I'm sorry- I missed my schedule. It was bound to happen eventually.

…I'm a little pessimistic, aren't I?

(I wrote a long [for this series: second longest in the whole thing so far] chapter, though! Yay?)

However, I do have a good reason-two good reasons, actually, the first being my trip, the second being that I ran into difficulties writing this. He talked to me for hours on end, and finally told me to say hi to all my readers for him. I'm still trying to figure out if that's a good thing, but hi.

Why did I have problems with this? When I first thought of this story, I thought of two scenes in particular (that were later joined by many others). The second one was America pulling the unicorn's horn.

The first was the one that gave me the idea for this-and was decidedly less comedic. This chapter took a while partly because I wanted to get it right. I'm still not sure I did, but when Marina gave me those two reviews, it motivated me to at least try and finish and post. I can always retcon later if I decide to change it.

You really shouldn't have any trouble telling what scene I'm referring to. In the hope it came off the way I wanted it to-enjoy!

* * *

><p>Beep-Beep. Beep-Beep. Bee-<p>

England woke up and turned the wristwatch's alarm off. _What an odd dream I had last night…_

Then he saw he was in America's bed. Again. _Oh, shit_, he realized_. It wasn't a dream_.

_And I'm STARVING_, he thought. He had grabbed a few (surprisingly edible) snacks while playing videogames, but they had hardly made up for the physically tiring day he had had yesterday.

He could work later. England got up and went looking for the kitchen, remembering the approximate point America had run off to the previous day. He got lucky, and it didn't take him that long to find the kitchen.

England investigated the pantry and realized that America must not do much cooking. There wasn't much he could work with. And, unsurprisingly, there was plenty of coffee but no tea.

He sighed and went to work. In the end he was fairly pleased with himself. Given the circumstances, the sorta egg-muffin thing (emphasis on the "thing". Otherwise, this sentence would be implying that what England had come up with was food of some sort.) that he'd come up with was pretty impressive.

England bit into it, and gagged. It was**horrible**. Taste buds that hadn't had to seriously deal with British cooking in over a hundred years reeled in agony. A few died on the spot.

England got a towel and spit the taste-bud murdering concoction out. It certainly wasn't appropriate, but he didn't want to be throwing up later, or otherwise suffering from ingestion of the obvious health hazard.

Frazzled, he then tried to figure out what went wrong (in that vague, abstract manner one adopts when one has just been through some sort of traumatizing event). _I must have read some of those labels wrong, or something. Or maybe some of that stuff was bad. Yeah, that's it._

(Half the world groans at the wrong lesson learned.)

Deciding not to risk the pantry again, he surveyed the fridge. It was almost completely full of junk food. Sighing again, England consigned himself to his fate and ate some of the heart-clogging crap. Once or twice probably wouldn't kill him.

Then he went to find a computer with internet, where he could at least get some of his work done.

_Come on, I know America has a study somewhere, even if he never uses it,_ England thought, frustrated. He had been trying to find a computer for nearly thirty minutes now, this time adding to a gradually growing map as he went. He'd even tried looking in the garage at one point (which he'd just walked into. Was _anything_ in this house locked? Then again, this was America. Most countries would think twice before trying to mess with him. [England felt a brief moment of yearning for_ that_ luxury.] It was still really irresponsible, though. There were plenty of countries (and ordinary people) _stupid_ enough (France) to give it a try.).

England wandered around a little bit more, adding another game room and some corridors to his map.

He was just about to go wake America up when he pulled on a locked door.

England knocked on it, trying to see if it was a bathroom. No one seemed to be inside, and the wood door suggested otherwise. It didn't seem to be anything special. It was in a small corridor towards the back of the house, back in the area that America didn't seem to use much. But it was _locked_. Nothing in America's house was locked.

_I should probably just leave it_, England reminded himself, trying to squash his growing curiosity. But what in the world would America lock up?

Finally, England wriggled his hand in between the door and tugged on the lock-hard. Something snapped, and the door swung open.

England surveyed the dust-strewn storage room with disappointment. He wasn't sure what he had been expecting, but it had been something more glamorous. He was about to close the door and leave when he saw the musket, bayonet attached, sitting on one of the piles, the dust around it swirled and broken.

There was a deep slash along the gun's handle, a deep slash made by another's bayonet. Made by England's bayonet. Not sure how to react, England walked closer, just to be sure his eyes weren't deceiving him. They weren't.

For a moment he just stood there, remembering, bittersweet emotions surfacing as he realized America had kept it all these years.

He was gripping the gun tightly, England realized. He put it down softly. Dust billowed out from underneath it, some settling on the otherwise clean musket. It must have been cleaned, and fairly recently.

A small clink alerted England to a falling trinket. He caught the displaced object in his hand, feeling the woodwork of the custom carving. Even before he opened his palm, he recognized one of the little soldiers he had carved. He set it back among the other custom made pieces for the chessboard.

The musket was one thing. England could rationalize it as defiance. The soldiers were another. They were very much a gift, a gift that would have reminded America of his colonial days every time he picked one up. Yet he had kept them.

Now England started going through the piles, wandering the storeroom. Here was the tuxedo he had had given America to help with his horrible wardrobe, there that one tea set with a crack in one of the cups where America had gripped it too hard. At one point he saw the punch-thing that he had given America that one July the fourth.

Everything. America had kept everything England had ever given him, locked away in this one room.

It was too much. England started crying, gently, softly, quietly. It wasn't a very heavy cry, but the tears were there, lightly rolling off his face, falling with muffled plops and plinks on the relics.

America had always implied that he'd thrown this stuff away, but here it was. Here, in what was probably the only locked room in America's house. America hadn't wanted him to know, hadn't wanted England to think that he still cared about those times.

What would America do if he knew that England had found this hiding place? Clean it out, claiming that he had just forgotten?

England didn't want that. Slowly, he picked up the things, placing them back where he had found them. He would leave no evidence. None. He slowly worked the lock, getting it into a position where it would jam the next time it was opened. America would think he had broken it himself. Then England left, closing the door behind him. It shut with a final click.

Yes, no evidence, none. No evidence, except for the small, darkened circles where tears had swept the dust away.

…

Far away from the room, England sat down on a chair by a window, thinking. The room didn't really change anything. It was there, but it was still locked. America might remember, but he obviously didn't remember quite the way England did. Nothing had changed.

But as dawn came and the sun rose, England couldn't help thinking about the locked room, and all the memories it hid inside.


	12. Markers and Stairs

Yay! It looks like I'm getting back on schedule.

Dear Clozzie: congrats on predicting the dramatic moment last chapter.

Dear Marina: thanks for some good ideas. A few of them were already planned into the story, but I got some new ideas here (though I'm surprised to hear that Denmark has magic. Could you maybe point me in the direction of something that verifies this?), which is always great.

Now: this is going to be a **RIDICULOUSLY**(and when it's bolded AND underlined you better believe I mean it)long pre-chapter author's note because I didn't want to put an author's note at the end of the last chapter even though I had a lot of things to say, as I think saying anything would have hurt the poignancy of the moment.

First of all: Hetalia doesn't belong to me.

Now I'm going to talk about last chapter. Not so much about the dramatic part, because I feel it speaks best for itself. I'm going to talk about the idea that RasalynnLynx proposed to me, and how it tied in to a lot of thinking that I've done about this sort of story (If you don't want to hear about this, and it is **very** nerdy (and not that important to the story), bail out now. You can skip the rest of the author's note.). If you haven't read the reviews (and I don't blame you-I know that I rarely read much farther than the first page of reviews on anything), the idea she [check] proposed that I put in last chapter was basically 'England finding out how his food tastes to everyone else.'

I hadn't thought of this because I had thought of taste as a mental thing-'your tastes,' as in, 'your preferences.' Whereas this idea suggested either a physical connection (which, admittedly, could have some truth to it- there's a reason we say 'Your taste buds changed,' (or is that just my family? I hope not.) not 'Oh, you changed your mind about that?' For instance, as we grow older, we lose some of our taste buds- a physical change that definitely affects the supposedly mental preference for food. Following this line of reason, it's hard to prove for certain whether our tastes aren't governed by the physical state of our taste buds or not.) or a subconscious one- that is, that England was getting some of America's subconscious, and it was influencing his taste. I took the easy way out and am claiming the first option, but I actually put a fair bit of thought into whether or not that second option should apply in this story, and if so, how much.

Why would I think of this? Well, at least some of my readers have probably read the series 'Animorphs.' For those of you who haven't, it's about a group of highschoolers (I think) that are given the power to transform into any animal they can touch (with certain limitations) by a dying alien, in the hope that they will use this power to fight the Yeerks, parasitic alien slugs that have been covertly invading Earth by crawling into people's brains and controlling them (this is exactly as creepy as it sounds, though the Yeerks also had limitations.). The point is that both Animorphs and Yeerks ended up controlling a body other than their own, but with vastly different amounts of input from that body.

The Yeerk's host remained fully conscious and aware of what their senses were showing them, but powerless to do anything other than think. The Yeerk could look through their memories like a book, and instinctively gained the ability to do anything the host could do, allowing them to effortlessly fool everyone.

The Animorphs, however, got only the very base instincts of their form (or at least, were supposed to- for example, the ability of birds to fly is not entirely instinctual, but they got that). We're talking things that are hardwired, genetically, into a species. So they got some basic skills of the form that would otherwise have been difficult to pull off, but at a price- the instincts could be very overwhelming (sometimes to the point of temporarily forgetting that they weren't animals), especially the first time they tried that particular form or in certain situations- for instance, a prey animal might have a strong urge to hide or freeze. Often, the animorphs had to count on taking a few moments to successfully gain control of the morph, at which point the instincts subsided to a sort of subconscious that only cropped up in certain situations.

What intrigued me most was the idea of what fell sort of in-between those two options. Basically, long before I'd thought of this particular fic, I'd been interested by the idea of a bodyswap that gave the swapped in conscious some of the subconscious of that particular 'host,' in much the same manner the animorphs got the animal's instincts- the swapped in mind would feel the general way their 'host' might react, and if that reaction was strong enough, they might be swept along by it. They'd also get the talents (other than the physical ones) of their host-if not the experiences that shaped those talents. Likewise, they'd lose their own talents, though again, not the experience. I'm not perfectly explaining this, as they'd also get more than just 'reactions-' the way I envisioned it, it's sort of like having the other person in your head if they were amnesiac and couldn't form any new memories (This really gets creepier and creepier, doesn't it? Maybe I should write a horror sometime.).

By their very nature, bodyswap stories are already screwing science, but a scientific argument could be made for that sort of thing for normal people (in bodyswap stories). It could be made even more easily for the nations, as much of their personality and what they're good at is heavily shaped by their history and people. Unless, of course, you look at it the other way, and say the nation-people are influencing the country- in which case the swap would have serious effects on the real world. There is one third option, however- viewing the personifications as characters, not as nations-that is, doing things to them is not the same as doing it to that country, and things they do don't necessarily reflect things that the country does. It is the clash between that third and the first two options that causes much of the difficulty in writing hetalia, for Hetalia's personifications can lean towards either of the two. In other words: there is a fine line between nation and person, and Hetalia characters play hopscotch over it (By the way, if I do ever write a serious fic, and I am thinking about it, I will probably present that line as a "feeling" that crops up when they hit the "nation" side of the line, sort of like how (for example) England could tell America was a nation because he 'felt that way.' Basically, a sort of "nation" aura that intensifies when they're doing something symbolic.). As for where this fic falls on that line, I'm probably going to put it pretty firmly on the 'character' side, as this fic is a bit too realistic to play the other option for comedy (Note, however, the probably. I do intend to put some drama in.). Of course, the real question that I've been trying to explain is "How much of each other's (sub)conscious are they going to get in this fic?"

The answer is: I'm not sure yet.

Before you go bang your head against some blunt object for reading this much to get such an answer, allow me to remind you that I did offer you a chance to bail out.

~pause to allow for headbanging, facepalming, and other expressions of exasperation~

Of course, you may have noticed something a little off about that answer. Namely, that what I've already written should make this fairly obvious. I had to decide if I was going to go with my more unconventional idea or more standard bodyswap practices, and I went with the standard ones. Heck, I even explained that the one thing that could be misconstrued otherwise was purely physical. The point is, while obviously it's a bit too late to include the subconscious personality, I am seriously leaning toward a talent-swap to some degree. [Marina, take note.]

Now that I've explained all the thinking I've put into the possibilities, I'm sure you're expecting me to explain how this affects the story.

I'm not going to. Sorry! This is already ridiculously long and I'm lazy enough to not want too.

(Why did I just get the feeling that someone wants to murder me?)

…

…I did tell you it wasn't that important…

So, why did I mention this, then, anyway? Basically, because for some reason, when RasalynnLynx gave me that suggestion, something inside me went 'No. That's not how it works.' My response to this was 'Wait, why not?' Then I started thinking about some of this stuff that I had thought of before and more. It didn't take too long for me to confuse myself, so I put it down on paper (well, typed it) to organize my thoughts. Then, since most of it was already there, I thought 'Why not share this with my readers?'

The voice that had been with me back in chapter 8 (end author's note) reminded me that it a) wouldn't be funny, b) probably wouldn't be very interesting, (only on a sort of philosophical basis [that is, it would be interesting for people who enjoy thinking about abstract things]) and would c) annoy the people who decided to read it anyway because it was LONG and didn't actually reveal much about the story. However, this voice didn't prevail this time, so here it is. I guess I might put the chapter 8 rant up too if enough people like this.

Anyway, now that that truly ridiculously long author's note (over 500 words longer than the actual chapter**!**) is out of the way-enjoy!

* * *

><p>America woke up slowly. In the first stage, he was just lying there, eyes closed. Then he started to realize he was waking up, and tried to go back to sleep. When that failed, he opened his eyes, ever so slightly.<p>

… _Coffeeeee…._

Now in the third stage, the one that only coffee or sheer panic could rouse him from, America stumbled towards the kitchen like a zombie, eyes still half closed, in desperate search of the stimulant.

He reached the kitchen and started brewing some coffee. A quick cup or two later, he was awake enough to notice his face in the mirror. Someone had doodled all over it with a purple marker. He had a 'purple' eye, a swirly mustache, and various doodles all across his face (including what looked suspiciously like an American flag).

For a second, he was indignant. Then he started cracking up, loud and hard. He had looked just like a mortified England, and he couldn't help but laugh at his reflection.

After America finally calmed down, he started walking back towards the bedroom on the pretense of getting ready for the day, hoping he'd run into England. England, who had heard him laughing, had come to investigate and wasn't that hard to find.

America turned and looked at England, a goofy grin on his face. For a second, the older nation just froze, stunned at the offense that had been done to _his_ face (and hoping it wasn't a permanent marker). Then he realized what it must have been that had America laughing so loud.

"Did you do that?" England asked in a dangerously edged voice.

America didn't notice the edge. "Naah. I woke up like this. It sure is funny, though." At this he mimicked England's an indignant face. Didn't do a bad job of it, either.

England tried to keep a straight face and just barely succeeded.

"Oh, lighten up," America asked, dropping the face and laughing. "That was hilarious, and you know it."

"…Okay, it's a little funny," England said, grumbling. "That _is_ washable, right?"

America stopped grinning. He hadn't thought of that possibility.

"Oh,_ great_," England sighed.

"Just wait, I'm sure it's washable. No one here could be that mean!"

England rolled his eyes (thinking of the unlocked doors and certain aliens), but didn't comment. Meanwhile, America had already run off to try washing the marker off. England followed with considerably less enthusiasm.

"It's okay, England!" America said. "It comes off!"

England looked in. His face was a purple mess. Marker was smeared everywhere.

"That isn't exactly off, America."

"It's coming off," America insisted. To prove his point, he splashed water all over his face (some of which dribbled down onto his white shirt, leaving a suspiciously grape-like stain) and then wiped it with a towel, which came away purple. America pointed to the towel triumphantly.

"See? Coming off."

"Okay," England said, "I'll leave you to this. Where, in your house, is a computer with internet access?"

"Second floor," America said, turning back to soak his face again (this time getting purple marker-juice all over the sink).

"America, I have wandered this whole house and haven't seen any stairs," England said suspiciously.

"Then obviously you haven't wandered the whole house."

"Look, America, I've made a friggin _map_."

"It doesn't have the second floor on it."

"Yessss. How exactly would you expect me to have gotten to the second floor if _I haven't seen any stairs_?"

"Well, I just jump up on the balcony sometimes…"

"The balcony. The one with the railing? With two pegs broken off?"

"Hey, yeah! So you did see it."

"America, you'd have to jump at least 2 and a half meters to get to that."

"So?"

England put his hand on his forehead.

"America?"

"Yes?"

"Just point to where the blasted stairs are." England held up the map.

America turned around and pointed in some random direction. "That way."

England, however, wanted some more specific instructions. "No, where are the stairs on the map."

America looked. "I don't see any stairs." He was starting to enjoy this.

"Obviously," England said, gritting his teeth. "I haven't seen them yet, so I don't know where to put them on the map. That's why I'm asking you."

"What? How should I know where to put the stairs on your stupid map?"

"You fucking live here, git!"

"Oh. This is a map of my house?" America said, sounding surprised.

"What the heck did you think it was a map of?"

"I dunno. Just looking at it makes my head hurt, so I figured it wasn't a map of me."

"America. Just show me where. The. Fucking. Stairs. Are."

America pointed to a spot a little ways off the map, midair.

"That isn't even inside your house."

"How would you know? It's a map of my house, right?" America said, relishing the face England gave him back.

"America? See here? These are the outer walls. If a point isn't within these, it's not in your house."

"Are you sure? The outer walls are a lot bigger than that. I would know."

America failed to hold back a smile when he saw England's incredibly frustrated expression. "You know, stress isn't good for you."

England would have hit America on the face if he could have thought of a way to do it without soaking himself in purple marker-juice. He settled for punching him in the chest.

"Oof," America groaned.

"For the record? You totally had that coming," England said, still pissed.

America didn't say anything.

"Are you alright?" England asked, now a little worried. He had definitely been trying to inflict physical pain, but he hadn't meant to seriously hurt America.

"Well, I feel like I got hit by a truck," America said bluntly, "but I'll be fine," he further insisted. "Heroes are tough!"

England looked at him for a few seconds. America crossed his arms with a hmph.

"…I'm sorry," England said, looking away. "As previously: you totally had that coming, but I still shouldn't have punched you, anyways."

"Dude, I'm fine!" America exclaimed, slapping England on the back (who startled out of his upset with a small yelp). "Just give me a few minutes to get this marker stuff off."

* * *

><p>"Okay, I'm going to go get dressed now," America said. It had taken him a fair bit longer than 'a few minutes,' but he'd gotten most of the marker off his face, though a close observer would be able to note the somewhat more purple shade than normal.<p>

"What?" asked England.

"These are my Pj's, remember?" America replied, walking off.

"Oh yeah. It's just easy to forget, with so much happening…"

Speaking of things that were forgotten…

_Wait. I STILL don't know where to find the stairs!_

* * *

><p>Begin Author's note<p>

Did you see how America wakes up? That is _so_ how I wake up. Admittedly, I hate coffee, but I'm very zombie-like in the mornings.

On a slightly more story-related note, I get the feeling that America's acting a little tougher than he feels here, and that he hasn't completely fooled England.

On a slightly less story related note, I have several review-questions (answer with a review!) this time.

First: Did you read the ridiculously long author's note at the front? I really am curious as to how many people trudged through that monstrosity.

Second: If you did read said monstrosity, did you enjoy it? If so, do you want to see the chapter 8 rant (if I can find where I put it on my computer…)?

Thirdly: Just where _are_ the stairs?

(Yes, these are all supposed to be serious questions. Why do you ask?)

I will greatly appreciate all replies. Thank you in advance!


	13. Clothes and Driving

Hi there! Thanks to everyone who reviewed. So much thanks. Each one is like a little bitty yummy cookie wrapped in luscious chocolate sauce, and I savor every one appropriately.

Dear MellowYellow: I'd like to be self-depreciatingly humble and say my story isn't that good, but honestly, you made my day with that review. It's people like you that remind me why I keep writing. Of course, now I'm left curiously wondering about how you think the story is going to go. I have been dropping some hints, and I'd honestly like to know if people are picking up on them. Then again, a story that's completely predictable is a pretty boring one, so hopefully, I'll manage to surprise you a few times too. :)

Hetalia doesn't belong to me. If it did, I would try to make it required viewing for all American social studies students, because we honestly don't care about history/geography as much as we should (In my eyes, social studies didn't stop being a blowoff class until around _9__th__ grade_), and it would help with that. Plus, it would make everyone's life a little more interesting.

You know, it's really funny. I'm about 16,000 words into this, and it was only while writing this chapter that I realized that I have a pretty good sense of humor. It was quite a shocking revelation.

Anyway, enjoy!

* * *

><p>America started looking for some clothes, and found them.<p>

America smiled. His bomber jacket…he hadn't worn it for over a day now. Time to fix that.

He took a look in the mirror. _Huh. England doesn't look that bad wearing my jacket_, he noted.

He strode back out.

A bit later, England saw him wearing the jacket. After the inevitable brief moment of shock at the look of it, he said "America…that's not going to work. I would never wear your jacket under normal circumstances."

"Never?" America asked curiously. "I'm pretty sure I got you into it one truth or dare…"

"That's not the point."

"Well, if _you_ would never wear _my_ jacket, I think I can safely say _I_ would never wear _your _old man clothes. They've got tears all over them, too."

"And whose fault is _that_?" England glared.

"Yours?" America helpfully suggested.

England [gently] bonked him on the head.

"But the point is, people think you're me. I would never wear torn clothes, but I'd take them over your jacket."

"But if you'd never wear torn clothes, wouldn't that actually be more suspicious? That would look like something you did yourself and didn't fix. But you admitted yourself that I've gotten you into it doing truth or dare! We could just say we'd played a game and I wouldn't have to wear your weird clothes!"

England stared at him, open mouthed.

"What?"

"You just _made a decent point_!"

"How is that weird? I make GREAT points all the time! I mean, what I don't get is why you're only acknowledging that now. I mean, it's not even that likely that we'll run into someone on the way over, anyway!"

"You just did it again…" England pinched himself and yelped.

"Why'd you just pinch yourself?" America asked curiously.

"Never mind that," England said. "Let's just head back to my house." He started walking in the general direction of the door.

"Wait, why?" America asked, following him.

"So that I can try and fix us, remember?"

"Oh yeah! That'll be great. I guess I have to be there, huh?"

England hesitated briefly. "Well, I can't be sure, but you'll probably have to be fairly close. Closer than the approximately 3000 or so kilometers that the Atlantic ocean covers."

"Kilometers? What's that in miles?"

"You still haven't adopted the metric system? Didn't you put it on your to-do list?"

"Nope! We don't use those _French_ units over here!" America said it quite suspiciously innocently.

Even so, I should hardly need to say that England did not take this well.

* * *

><p>One mauling later, they had almost reached the door. No serious damage had been done (physically. England's temper was still up in arms.).<p>

"The metric system was **not** **French**."

"But it was made in Paris."

"Who told you that?"

"Well, France…"

"He was lying."

"I don't think so. I totally googled it!"

"You shouldn't believe everything you read online."

"Nuh-uh. Google would never lie to me."

"And anyway, it's more complicated than that."

With that, they walked out the door.

Behind them, a certain twin holding a baby polar bear cub went "What…the…heck…?"

* * *

><p>Canada had come down to talk to America a fair bit earlier, actually. When he figured out that the doorbell was broken, he let himself in and sat down on the couch, sure that America would show up sooner or later.<p>

…it was a very comfy couch, actually. Canada dozed off, and wasn't awakened until he heard voices approaching.

"Aaah!" he rapidly stood up, dusting himself off. He checked his watch. _Oh, few. I didn't sleep that long…_

That was when he saw England and America walk in.

The first thing he noticed was that America was very presentable for that early on a Saturday. His expression was oddly serious, but given that he was also doing a really good imitation of a British accent, he was probably mocking England.

However, Canada quickly forgot these oddities when he saw England, who was noticeably bruised (_is his face _purple_?_), wearing America's bomber jacket, speaking with an _American_ accent and sorta…_smiling_, and not in an entirely smirky way, either. Really, if it had not been for that last one, Canada might have dismissed the whole thing as just an odd coincidence.

As it was? Cue the "What…the…heck?"

* * *

><p><em>Really, it isn't that bad of a car,<em> England couldn't help but think. He was driving America's car (the keys had been left inside it. Once again, England wondered how in the world the device hadn't been stolen yet). There had been a bit of disagreement over that last point-America had insisted that he drive, claiming to know the traffic better (and having had prior misfortunes of this sort. ["STOP DRIVING ON THE **LEFT**! ON THE RIGHT ON THE RIGHT! **AAAAH! CAR!**" "Shut UP, you GIT, I'm TRYING to move to the right without getting us KILLED-and **YOU'RE NOT HELPING**!"]). This disagreement had ended with a sulking America riding shotgun.

As any driver could guess, however, the matter of the radio ended considerably more explosively. England had been thrilled to find a station he liked, only to turn and see America making a gagging face, tongue lolling out, fingers in his ears.

"I'm the driver. I get to set the radio." With this one comment, things went out of control.

One gas station later, a no longer _quietly_ sulking America had been removed to the backseat.

"…I KNOW A SONG THAT GETS ON EVERYBODY'S NERVES, EVERYBODY'S NERVES, EVERYBODY'S NERVES. I KNOW A SONG THAT GETS ON EVERYBODY'S NERVES, AND THIS IS HOW IT GOE-"

"Could you kindly SHUT THE HELL UP?"

"NEVER!"

England was almost ready to rip his throat out. Almost. When America had first decided he would get his revenge by trying to get them in a wreck, England had turned the radio up as loud as it could go, which was **loud**. It was the sort of loud that made people turn heads and look at you on the streets.

Yet America had managed to shout over it for nearly half an hour already. England was honestly shocked to discover that his voice was capable of such a thing.

_I swear, if he doesn't go horse in the next fifteen minutes..._

* * *

><p>Begin Author's Note<p>

I've got a bit to say here. First of all, England is the one lying about the metric system, as it was pretty much invented in France by French people (although it was indeed a bit more complicated than was mentioned here.). It was later adopted by England, a fact that I figured they'd still be in denial about. I mean, honestly? How could I NOT make a joke out of this?

Now, who saw Canada coming? Nobody? I mean, France came over at England's place, and nobody thought the same thing might happen at America's? What do you mean, you forgot there was anyone nearby?

…poor Canada. On a more serious note, I find it odd how often people seem to forget that Canada is practically narcoleptic. I find it hilarious and appropriate. Really pairs nicely with America's ADHD.

Speaking of Canada, I'd like to thank MexMyselfxI for reminding me about the accents. I was a little hesitant to put them in before he reminded me that generally, only other English-speaking countries would be able to tell the relatively slight difference, and that an accent can be imitated fairly easily.

I love this scene in the car (and no, I didn't make that song up. It basically repeats itself after where America was cut off, again and again and again until it genuinely has frazzled your nerves.). My one regret is that I didn't show more of America's "prior misfortune" with England's driving. I've always thought that the difference between the two countries must have caused a few accidents at some point in history.

Is it just me, or are my chapters getting longer? It's true. My chapters are getting longer.

Hurray?

Please, please review. I really love cookies.


	14. Arrival and Boredom

First off: I don't own hetalia.

Huh…I can't really think of anything I want to say here.

So: Enjoy!

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-..-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

They had finally reached England's house. Finally.

"I think we _walked_ to my house faster." America said, his voice still horse.

"Glad to hear you enjoyed the ride," England replied sarcastically. He got out and started walking towards the door. America followed.

So they both walked inside, where America was greeted by several fantastical creatures (but no ghosts), some of which looked rather upset.

One of the less annoyed ones gave England bunny ears. Like, real bunny ears, from a real bunny. America started cracking up.

"What's so funny?" England asked.

"Oh, nothing," America said.

At this point some of the more annoyed-looking fairies flew over and started scolding him. "What were you thinking? Where have you been? And what's your favorite color?"

"Uhh, blue?" England turned and looked at America quizzically for a moment before heading back towards the attic.

A few fairies exchanged glances. "Lucky guess," one muttered. "You just gave way too vague a question, you know. Lots of people like blue. We need something more specific."

"Okay," another asked quickly, "What's your favorite food?"

"Hamburgers!" America said cheerfully. England turned around and looked at him like, _What?_

"America," the fairy said flatly. "Yep, definitely not England," another mumbled. "I can't believe you couldn't tell," said another.

"Yeah?" America replied brightly.

"Why the heck are you in England's body?"

"I don't know. We just woke up like this a few nights ago." Around this point, several critters flew off to try and badger England (who at this point had a decent idea of what was going on and had started to walk back towards America). America watched their attempts and couldn't help but smile. England was completely oblivious, even when one of the fairies pulled out a mini megaphone.

The fairy talking with America sighed. "IDIOTS!" it roared, addressing the other fairies. America went eep.

"You're not getting anywhere. Obviously, England didn't keep his sight."

"But…he's England…right?"

"Yes, but current evidence suggests he's quite literally as oblivious as America (no offense intended) with regards to us right now. If we want to talk to him, we're going to have to do it through America."

For a second the room was quiet as that sank in. Someone muttered "Well, this is gonna suck."

"America," England asked, now right next to America, "Who are you talking to?"

"Some fairies, and some flying bunnies, too."

"Well, I have a few questions for them, and they probably have a few questions for me, too. They can go first."

One of the fairies asked, "Do you know how to fix this? Should I call up Norway?"

"No, I don't," America replied, "Though England came over here to try. Why would you call Norway?"

"That isn't necessary yet," England confirmed, having guessed what the original question was about.

"America? Could you pass the questions on to England?"

"Sure, I guess," America replied.

"Okay," another fairy asked, "Where were you all morning?"

"Ooh! I know! At my house," America answered.

"Why?"

"Because we had some time to kill while we waited for France to leave, and I had some new videogames to try out, so we went to my house."

"Oh…okay. Well, those were the most important questions. If England has something he wants to ask…?"

America turned and looked at England. After a few moments, the latter properly interpreted this to be his cue to talk.

"Did France cause any problems?" England asked, not looking anywhere remotely near where any of the fairies were.

The same fairy who had shouted at the others earlier decided to take the direct approach. "America, please tell him that France didn't do any serious damage, though apparently he got a video of you two leaving on his cell phone."

"The fairy who shouted at you earlier says that France didn't do anything to your house, but he got a video of us leaving."

"How?" England asked, horrified.

"Cell phone," the fairy reminded.

"Cell phone," America echoed.

"That git! I'm going to have to have to retrieve that later…" England exclaimed. "Anyway, did anyone else come over? Please tell me none of my brothers were allowed in."

"No," the fairy answered.

"The fairy says no," America relayed.

"Good," England stated. "Okay, I'm going to go see if I can figure out how to fix us, but first, we should get you in some of _my_ clothes, America. Now that we're not in the middle of nowhere, countrywise, we're considerably more likely to be interrupted by wandering countries. I recently had reason to ban my brothers from my house for a week, but I'm not honestly sure they'll respect that. "

"But your clothes are stupid and itchy!"

"How would you know? You've only ever worn one of my outfits! Which reminds me-I left that in the car. I'm going to go get it now. Please don't wander off."

England went to go get the outfit. America stood there for a moment.

"So," a bunny asked, "How's it been?"

"Okay," America replied. "I've had some fun, but I'm looking forward to being myself again."

They chitchatted for a few more seconds. England came back, torn clothes in hand.

"Follow me, America."

"I'm not wearing your stupid clothes," America insisted.

"Yes, you are. France might come back over (_God_, I hope not). I'll wear the bomber jacket, okay?"

America sulked for a few seconds, but eventually slung his jacket over England's shoulders.

"What's it like?" America teased. "Wearing the jacket of the mighty United States of America?"

"Hot and itchy. Now please go put on my clothes," England said irritably.

"You're no fun," America grumbled. England led him to his room, and successfully managed to get America into an outfit that he would actually wear.

"Great, now that that's done, I'm going to go investigate. Stay in the house, okay?"

"Sure."

England left, heading for the attic. On the way, he asked a few fairies to keep America out of trouble…or at least thought he did.

America sat down on the couch and waited. Five minutes later, his nonexistent patience wore out.

"I'm boooooored," he complained to no one in particular. "and these clothes itch," he added.

No one in particular answered back. America got up, thinking that he'd take another look at England's dresser and see if he could find something better.

England had locked it. _Aah, man. Who locks their clothes up?_

Sitting off to the side were the clothes he'd woken up in. _They _were_ less itchy…._

America grabbed them and started trying to put them on. He was fumbling with the buttons when the book he'd pocketed earlier slid out. Frustrated with the outfit, America turned his attention to the small book. He picked it up and it opened to what must have been a frequented page.

For a while America just tried to guess about what all the random words meant. Then he started sounding a few out. They came naturally, flowing in a tongue that seemed to pull at something deep within him. It felt odd, but good. America was still contemplating this when he finished the spell.

There was a loud crack and a brilliant burst of white light. An odd surge ran up and down his body.

_Uuuhh…_America blinked, reeling from the shock. Then he saw a mirror. And grinned.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-..-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Begin Author's note

I do have a fair bit to say down here.

First of all: Those of you who read my chapter twelve rant probably saw this coming. Don't really want to elaborate on this right now.

Back in chapter 8, I asked for magical mayhem due to indecision. Finally, that question has come into play, though you, poor readers, are going to have to wait a week or so to find out what exactly happened.

...try your hand at predicting this story. What was the magical event (it isn't something unheard of), and what happens next? I wanna hear what you guys think. I might even get some good ideas from it.

There are two things that I don't like about this chapter, and one is the implication that America can chit-chat. Somehow, I can't see him being able to do that for long. He's the sort of person who'd like to be _doing_ something.

The second is the implication that England's favorite color is blue, because I never thought it would be. I wanted two questions though, so I just reminded myself that a lot of people don't really think about that really hard when they answer, and that the sorta standard answer is blue. That, and that the fairies probably asked this a long time ago, so I can reasonably say later that this England's favorite color was not blue. I'd say the fact that I went to all this trouble to think up an excuse is conclusive proof that I'm a little crazy.

…then again, it's not that easy to think of a question that the fairies would ask in this situation (meaning: designed to distinguish the two), given that they suspect that it might be America (so they wouldn't want to ask anything too personal), that America would logically give pretty much the same answer to as England would. In summary: something they would logically ask that wouldn't successfully distinguish America and England. Please send me your ideas for that sort of question (review!); I may need a few more of those, and if I get enough, I might swap this one out.

For those who don't get why the fairies asked about Norway: FOR SHAME. You don't know every detail of hetalia! How can you dare not be so serious as to not know this? Every fanfic writer should!

…on a completely unrelated and certainly not conciliatory or explanatory note, here's a link (take the spaces out): tvtropes pm wiki/pmwi ki. Php / AxisPowersHetalia/ SocialismAndSaltedHerring

Just a warning: tvtropes eats free time like a vampire sucks blood.

I almost called this chapter 'bored America is dangerous.' Just thought you should know. I might change it back if enough people request it, I guess.

I've asked some questions here. Review, pleeease?


	15. Britannia Angel

First off: I don't own Hetalia.

Second: this chapter should confirm a few theories.

Third: This chapter also contains the first shout out (reference to another work) of this entire fic. It's a pretty obscure one, though. See if you can spot it!

I can't really think of much else to write, so…Enjoy!

* * *

><p>England whipped through the books, frantically trying to find a way to fix the situation. His eyes watered at the text. <em>Why is this so har-<em>

He could hear the loud CRASH from the attic. Naturally, England sprinted downstairs, looking for America. It didn't take long to find him. He was wearing a toga and sandals, had a star-shaped wand in his hand, and there was a halo inexplicably floating above his head, but all this was trivial compared to the fact that he had wings sprouting out of his back.

"Dude," America exclaimed, noticing England, "I can _fly_."

Had he been paying attention, even America could probably have properly interpreted England's expression. It read, quite clearly, OH FUCK NO.

America, however, had more pressing things on his mind, like finding somewhere with a higher ceiling. He flew out past England while the latter was still shocked. Said flying past helped a considerable deal in removing said shock.

"Get back here, you stupid git!" England yelled after him.

"Catch me if you can!" America shot back. Having turned his head to say this, he grazed a light fixture, which wobbled back and forth before England rescued it from an untimely fall.

"Whoops," America added, sounding (a little) apologetic. He flew out into a room with a high ceiling.

_Oh, great,_ England thought, running after (and catching up to) him. _How in the world am I going to catch him now? And how in hell did he DO that to begin with?_

"Wheeeeee!" the hyperactive nation exclaimed in glee. He did a barrel roll that almost nicked England on the head.

England crouched down and waited for America to fly low again. Then he jumped as hard as he could, hoping to just barely grab onto something. He got a lot more than he'd bargained for.

"Holy _shit_!" England exclaimed as he shot up into the air above America, who dodged while the older nation panicked in a surprisingly calm manner. _I must be at least 3 meters up. I guess he wasn't kidding when he said he jumped up onto the balcony. But how do I __land__?_

Then he started falling back to Earth. England tried to get his feet under him, and mostly succeeded. Then he hit the ground.

It didn't hurt quite as much as he had expected, actually. He could probably do it again.

"Whoa," America commented, surprised, "You almost got me!"

A few seconds later, England's adrenaline had started to die down a bit. "America, this is ridiculous. You're going to have to come down eventually. Neither of us should have to waste our time and energy, and possibly get ourselves seriously hurt, in a stupid mid-air game of tag."

"You're just afraid that you wouldn't be able to catch me," America taunted.

"You do have a bit of an unfair advantage, America, so more or less, yes. I am also afraid that you will further damage my house, my furniture, or yourself, in that order. I also think that we need to have a bit of a talk about how you got wings in the first place." England had a sneaking suspicion that he knew the answer to the last question, but desperately hoped that he was wrong.

"…" America hovered, a bit of a pout evident on his face. "I think it would be fun," he said.

"Yeah, but you've already hit at least two things; I'm still dreading the reveal of what exactly was the victim of the crash I could hear from the attic. You obviously don't really know what you're doing, and could get yourself seriously hurt. Wouldn't it be safer to come down?"

"'Safe' is for boring countries." America grinned.

"'Safe' is for_ sane_ countries," England retorted.

America spent a few seconds trying to work out a comeback. "This isn't that unsafe, anyway. I mean, I'm dressed as an angel for a reason. I can probably heal stuff with the wand or whatever."

England noticeably paled. "Don't use that wand."

"Why?" America asked curiously.

"It's not a good idea," England replied.

"How would you know?" America folded his arms across his chest.

"Because I made that spell and I know what it does!"

"Really? What does it do? Kill people?" America shivered.

"What? No!" England protested indignantly.

"Does it involve a curse?"

"Not really…"

"Or aliens?"

"No way."

"Is it even permanent?"

"Well, not necessarily, bu-"

"Then what's wrong with waving it around?" America asked, waving the wand around.

"Hey! Watch where you're pointi -" FLASH.

* * *

><p>Begin author's note:<p>

Yeah, it's a short chappie (by recent standards). I couldn't resist leaving it on this cliffhanger, though.

I have to note that next chapter will be continuing from the same POV (England's), instead of swapping like usual.

Did you spot the shout-out? If you think you did, review, and I'll give you an internet cookie if you're right. If you think you didn't, review, and I'll tell you what it was. :)


	16. Of Mice and Tag

**NOTE: Important info in bottom author's note.**

Hi there, everyone! I still don't own Hetalia, though I'm working on it (Not really).

I wanted to write an action sequence. This happened.

Enjoy!

* * *

><p>When the dust settled, England had been chibified. The sheer cuteness was overwhelming, and America couldn't help but say "Aaahh…", despite the fact that he'd seen himself in a mirror plenty of times when he was younger. Things were calm.<p>

For a few seconds, anyway. Then England snapped out of it.

"WHY THE BLOODY HELL DID YOU DO THAT? I EXPLICITLY TOLD YOU NOT TO!"

It was really funny, actually. Not too many chibis can pull off an angry face that can get adults to take them seriously, and England certainly didn't manage it. America giggled.

"This isn't funny!" England protested.

"You're right. It's more cute than funny," America said, landing.

A few seconds later, England saw the coming snuggle and dodged the imminent assault on his dignity. Thus began a (mostly) no longer mid-air game of chase.

"I'm gonna catch you eventually!" America exclaimed.

"I don't think so!" England replied, sliding under a low table. He came out the other side as America came over the top with a flying leap. England doubled back and ran out the door. America followed in close pursuit.

Out in the hallway, England looked behind and saw America running right behind him. He grabbed the rug and yanked it, hard. Its other end hit the ceiling as America fell backwards, wings beating frantically. England scurried out of the hallway and squeezed under the sofa, out of sight.

A few seconds later, America bounded past.

_Whew_, England thought, slumping down a little. _America probably couldn't have put much power into that flash if he didn't even realize he was doing it. I just need to find somewhere bigger to hide and wait for this to wear off._

He then realized he was stuck. Brief thoughts of panic along the lines of 'Oh noes! I'm going to die a chibi!' (Well, maybe not that exact sentence) flashed through his head.

He squirmed a bit. It didn't do any good. England sighed, preparing to see if chibi!America was strong enough to push the couch off, and hoping that it wouldn't be too loud.

A mouse stuck its head out of the couch stuffing and sniffed in his general direction. England frowned, mentally making a note to investigate the bottom side of his furniture more often.

The mouse walked a little closer. England was used to mice, but still not very fond of them.

"Move! Shoo! Go away!" he hissed quietly.

Then the mouse bit him.

"OOOW!" England shrieked. "You stupid bloody [assorted other colorful profanities]…blasted mouse! Get off my finger!"

The mouse wasn't letting go, though. England shook the thing like crazy and it flopped around like a rag doll. Finally, England grabbed it by the tail and yanked it off, slamming it against the floor. The mouse squeaked in pain and scurried back into its hole, leaving a pair of large bloody marks on England's finger.

Then England felt the couch move a little. "Found you!" America gleefully exclaimed.

_Oh, crud_, England thought. America tried to move the couch again. He didn't quite succeed.

"Dude," America grunted, "How'd you get this thing in here? I can't lift it at all." _It's called getting help, you moron,_ England kindly thought.

The couch had lifted a little. England squirmed away from where America was trying to lift.

The next time America tried to move the couch, England pushed up on it as hard as he could. The couch flipped over, pinning America underneath it. The mouse shrieked as it was flung out of its hole.

"Ooow! You didn't have to do that, UK." America whined.

"Yeah, I did," England replied, triumphantly climbing onto the top of the couch. "Next time, think about what you're doing, first. I do not want to be snuggled."

"Yeah, yeah, but seriously, this hurts. Could you at least flip it back up?"

"Promise that you won't instantly try to snuggle me?"

"Okay."

England flipped the couch back to its upright position, still wary. America started counting to ten. At about 4, England realized why and dashed off.

"…10! Ready or not, here I come!" America's hyper voice drifted forward to England, who was frantically trying to lock the door to his room.

_Gah!_ He thought as he jumped and missed the knob again. _Come on, I can get this thing…_

This time he managed to grab the doorbell, but the door swung outwards, carrying him with it. His little legs kicked at air as he tried to grab the wall. A few seconds later he could hear America pounding after him and realized that he didn't have time to figure out how to close and lock a door behind him as a chibi. England dashed into the closet and hid under some clothes.

Having seen the still-moving door, America walked in. "I know you're in here, England!"

England swore under his breath_. Friggin traitorous door._

* * *

><p>Begin Author's note:<p>

I honestly got a blast out of writing this chapter (and a bit of the next). Some of the lines, the chase, the mouse… it was slow writing at times (I tried 6 different things for England's last line, ranging from the relatively lame 'Mentally, England made a note to himself to shake a door later and not go in.' to the good but awkward [and in my mind, illogical] 'I'm going to kill Sealand for stealing all the doorstops,'), but I liked the end result. What was your favorite line? It can be from an earlier chapter, too (Review!).

**IMPORTANT:**

This is the last week of summer before I go back to school. There is absolutely no way that I'm going to be able to keep up this rate of writing while I'm in school. Sadly, this means that I'm going to have to adopt a much less demanding schedule (or go on hiatus, but I don't think anyone really wants that).

**I'm going to try and update once a month from now until when summer starts again. **

This is not, however, guaranteed. I might manage more, I might manage less.


	17. Something Believable

Hi there. I guess you thought that I must have dropped the fic. I don't think that's going to happen, at least not for a while. I have too many ideas for this story.

Unfortunately, my workload is even more burdening than I expected. I managed to pull this off this time, but I'm not sure I'll always be able to. We'll see.

It was certainly fun to write.

Anyway…enjoy!

* * *

><p>America peered under the bed. <em>Where did England hide?<em> he wondered. He'd already tried the bathroom tub, under the bed, in a few different drawers, and several other places. He took a quick look in the closet, hoping to notice some sign of movement.

A stack of clothes far towards the back shifted a little. America smiled, slowly advancing.

"Gotcha!" America exclaimed, throwing his arms around the stack. Punk clothes scattered everywhere.

"Aaah!" England exclaimed, squirming like crazy.

"So cute and snuggly…" America softly sighed in contentment, pulling England onto his lap. England stopped struggling for a minute, probably deciding that he may as well just take the assault and get it over with. America wasn't going to stop chasing him until he did, and he really needed the time to try and figure out some way to fix the whole mess.

Then England squirmed again, suddenly. "America, I think we should stop now," the latter suggested, somewhat panicked.

"Why?" America asked. "I'm starting to understand why you used to do this so often with me. So…snuggly…"

"I think I'-"

England's sentence was cut off as he abruptly started lightly glowing. A few seconds later, he had grown back to normal.

"Okay, that is enough," England said, blushing and pushing his way out of America's lap.

"Aw, you don't want to snuggle some more?" America mischievously asked.

"N-NO! I mean, the whole thing with you snuggling my chibi form was weird enough and…"

At this point England turned around and saw America grinning like an idiot. His tone abruptly shifted. "Just tell me how you got those wings." England said harshly.

For a second there was silence. _What should I say? I don't want to get in trouble. I have to think of something believable, fast!_

"I got bitten by a radioactive dove and got turned into a superhero!" America was in full hyper mode. "N-"

"No."

"You can't prove that isn't what happened," America protested.

"There are not any doves currently residing around my house, there's no reason for any that did exist to be irradiated, and even if they did and were, it would still not have the effect that you're claiming it did."

"What?"

"Translation: your story makes no sense and isn't possible. Tell me what really happened."

"Ummm…" America stalled.

England glared at him.

"Okay, fine! Stop looking at me like that!" America sheepishly told England what happened.

* * *

><p>England managed to keep his temper. For a few seconds.<p>

"**YOU JUST READ SOMETHING RANDOMLY OUT OF A SPELLBOOK**?" England roared.

"In my defense, it was improperly labeled. Said something about the ecology of anteaters." America said, crossing his arms.

England barely heard. "Do…do you have any IDEA what could have happened?"

"Not really, no."

"**ANYTHING!**"

"Okay, okay, I get the idea!" America exclaimed. "So, wanna chase again?" he hopefully added. It _had_ been fun.

"Most definitely not," England stuffily replied. "We have bigger problems."

"Oh yeah. You were trying to fix the switch, right?"

"We also need to get you out of…that."

"Aah, do we have to? Flying is fun!"

"Yes."

"Whyyyy?"

"Right now, you have a lovely little store of magic on a proverbial hair trigger and _no idea how to control it_." England paused to let that sink in.

"So I don't swing the wand around. I can still keep the wings." America looked at England unflinchingly.

For a few seconds England was shocked by the expression America gave him. It was like looking at the British Empire in a mirror. It was the expression of someone who really wanted something who was accustomed to getting what they wanted.

There were small differences, of course. When England had last worn that expression, it had been a challenge. _Do you dare to stop me from taking what I desire?_

The way America wore it felt less like a challenge and more like a statement of fact. _It is already mine_, it read. It was the arrogant assumption without any of the recognition of the other.

Except now was the time the other should have been recognized. It reminded England of times long past, when he would never have tolerated such a thing. It reminded him that, at the moment, he was the stronger nation. He didn't _have_ to put up with this crap.

England sighed. Just because he didn't have to didn't mean he shouldn't. "No. You don't actually need the wand to channel magic. If anything, the wand makes it slightly _more_ predictable."

For a few seconds there was silence.

"But I want to fly," America said matter-of-factly.

"That really isn't a good idea," England said, turning back towards his bedroom, trying to figure out how to fix this further mess. _First, I'm going to have to get America to show me exactly what he read..._

A faint flapping sound was the only warning America gave, but it was enough. England turned around to see America rapidly getting away from him.

* * *

><p>AN

….

This isn't going to end well. Predictions? Responses? As always, I'm a little nervous when I let things take a little more dramatic turn.

I had fun writing America's excuse. I was having a really hard time with it until I remembered that there was no good reason for it to make sense. Then I just wrote down the first thing that popped into my head that I thought America might say. That was sorta the point, really.

I am seriously contemplating changing the name of this fic…if I could think of another name. Why? I think the rather cliché name might be putting people off. So, I have two questions for you:

Got any ideas for other names?

And, even more interestingly, how did you find this story? Were you put off by the title? Or not? Why did you click that little link to come read my little comedy?

The above are questions I've been wondering about for a while, and I'll always look forward to hearing about them.

One more review question. There was another little shout-out in here. Guess right and I'll give you an internet cookie. It's okay if you don't know, though. That's cool.


	18. Speck in the Sky

Disclaimer: If I owned Hetalia, I would definitely have a bodyswap episode. I'd have England and America swap, obviously...not completely sure who else though. Russia and Liechtenstein? :D (-evil face).

Dear AnonymousAmy: Thanks so much. It's for people like you that I keep writing.

Dear xXxFluffyxXx: Thank you too. You're right, my author's notes are pretty long. I just want to share all the stuff I think of…but maybe I should shorten them a bit.

Here's to short author's notes!

* * *

><p>"…That really isn't a good idea."<p>

_What?_

It wasn't a conscious thought, not really, but that was the gist of it. America was having trouble processing the fact that England didn't intend to let him do something he really wanted to do. It had been a long time since anything similar had happened. For a few seconds he just stared at England's retreating back as his brain flailed for a response.

But America wasn't an indecisive person.

He turned and flew away, heading for the door. Behind him, he heard England start and come after him.

"Catch me if you can!" he shouted defiantly, pumping his wings hard. He didn't take the time to look back at England this time.

Wings beating, wind whipping in his ears, America raced through the hallways, dipping and dodging and generally enjoying himself. Actually, 'enjoying himself' was a bit of an understatement. Everyone's dreamed of being able to fly at some point, but America had never forgotten that dream. There was a reason his symbol was an eagle, after all-flight was freedom.

No, America was ecstatic, exhilarated. The danger of being caught made it all the more exciting.

Nevertheless, there was something he was looking forward to more than this chase. He turned the last few corners with growing anticipation, and when he burst out of England's house he let out a wild whoop and started flying skyward.

Consequently, by the time England exited his house, America could barely see him. He was so tiny from way up here!

_Do I really want to come back down?_ America asked himself_. England's just going to yell at me again. He's such a … stick in the mud. _

He looked back down at England. No doubt the other nation would be upset.

Was England yelling at him? He couldn't tell that well. Certainly yelling at someone, he could hear that.

_That settles it. I'm going to Japan's house._

* * *

><p>England burst out of the house and instantly scanned the sky for America, horrified to realize that there was no hope of retrieving the idiot short of drastic measures.<p>

For a few seconds he just stood there, looking at the tiny speck that was America, surprised to realize that he was indeed surprised. He should have known that America wasn't going to put up with losing the wings, known it from that face. Yet somehow, he had expected America to follow his lead.

Why? Perhaps because of the way they all followed America. They had little choice because of his power, and that power was England's now. He hadn't consciously thought that that meant the leadership was now his-when one thought it through, that didn't really make sense-but part of him genuinely had. He realized, staring up at America, that he had been acting on that, leading more than he normally would, and, he realized to his shock, for the most part it had _worked_. But America had escaped that power so easily.

…_Maybe I should try flying off sometime._

This dangerous train of thought was interrupted by a somewhat belated cry.

"THAT WAS SO COOL!" Sealand exclaimed, jumping out of the bushes to get a better look at America.

_What the…What the… "_What the bloody hell are YOU doing in the shrubbery?" England screamed.

"Spying on England, obviously," Sealand replied, not really bothering to look back. "Did he just _teleport?_"

"What..Oh no…" England stuttered, turning back to see. Sure enough, America was gone.

_Well, America figured that little ability out fast_, England thought grimly. _How the bloody hell am I going to find him?_

…_And what the heck am I going to do about Sealand? Did he just admit to having been spying on me? _

"Wow. That has got to be one of the coolest things England has ever done," Sealand said, seemingly trying to convince himself that what he'd seen had indeed occurred.

England couldn't help but be a little indignantly jealous.

"I guess France was right about him acting strange, though. I can't believe he knew before me," the talkative micronation continued.

_Oh fuck_, England thought. _France knows? Oh $ #$ %^%$ #&^% *&^%!_

"Wait, what was this about France and England acting strange?" England asked, as casually as he could manage, remembering to fake the American accent (as horribly unintelligent-sounding as it was, he didn't want to get caught. Sealand seemed to have missed the first few slips.).

"No, nothing's wrong with France, America," Sealand replied. "By the way, you're not still mad at me for trying to conquer Seaworld, are you?" he added nervously.

_What?_ England thought for the far-too-manyith time in a few short seconds. _I'm going to have to conveniently 'discover' this from America later…_ "Ummm…no?"

"Oh, phew," Sealand said. "I was just going to get a colony of my own, like England used to have. That would've shown him! He'd have _had_ to recognize me then."

_Fat chance. _England thought. "I think there would probably be better ways to try and get England to recognize you. The age of empires is over, and you'd probably piss off any country you tried to colonize." _Then again_, England realized, _I can't really think of anything he could do short of going to war with me that could get me to recognize him. Maybe he has a point._

"That's exactly why it would be cool! The danger makes it impressive."

"Well, anyway," England hastily replied, "What did France tell you? I have to admit, I didn't see that display coming either…" Which was technically truthful.

"France stopped by earlier and told me that he and some other guy had noticed that England was acting weird, but that he was avoiding them. They gave _me_ the important mission of finding out what's going on," Sealand said proudly.

"Some other guy?" England queried.

"Yeah…somebody…funny, I don't really remember who. But anyway, I need to solve this case! Do you have any idea where he went?" Sealand asked determinedly.

"No," England promptly replied, not entirely truthfully. He had a guess.

"Well, I guess I just have to start looking! I'll start here. See ya, America!"

Sealand turned towards England's house. England watched, faintly amused, as Sealand discovered that the spare key had been moved recently.

"Ah, man, he moved it again…." Sealand whined. He reached up to give a tug at the door anyway, which opened since England hadn't exactly had time to lock it.

Sealand walked in. England hovered for a few seconds, trying to remember if he'd left anything incriminating in the house, torn between following Sealand and trying to find America before the idiot did any serious damage.

He finally decided on the latter. He knew that he couldn't (or wouldn't, depending on what behaviors one was talking about) impersonate America perfectly, so the longer he stayed, the more likely Sealand would figure out something was up with him, too (he also swallowed a moment of pride in that others had seen through America's charade first.). He didn't want to try and explain why he was here in the first place, either.

England turned around and walked away, trying to decide where first to try and look for America.

* * *

><p>AN

I got about halfway through this (and some of the last bit), and was getting deja-vu, before I realized how much what I was writing mirrored a certain event in Hetalia canon. Then I went back and added a few things, keeping that in mind.

Any guesses? Please review!

I would also like to thank Marina for reminding me about Sealand. He was exactly what I needed here :)

The idea of Sealand trying to conquer seaworld came from the fanfic 333 Ways to get kicked out of the UN. It's on my favorites list, and while it is utter crack, it is also an excellent source of ideas (Someone's gonna expand on the 'bring your national animal to the world meeting' idea sometime, I know it) and small little bits of life to include for the nations.


	19. Weirdness lands on Japan's doorstep

Disclaimer: Hetalia is not, and probably never will be, mine. Still…

Anyway, it's getting harder to write these (Due to time. While writer's block occasionally afflicts me, I still have plenty of ideas. Muah ha ha.).

Marina: I'm trying pretty hard not to think about that second one. Failing. France and Sealand…poor England. Italy and China…that would be WEIRD. About the job – I ACCEPT (repeat Muah ha ha.). I'm glad you still like this fic. And we'll be seeing a bit more of detective Sealand this chapter :)

Enjoy!

* * *

><p>Sealand wandered England's house. "Jerk Eeeenglaaaaaaaaand?" he called. "Are you heeeereeeeeee?"<p>

No answer. Sealand kept walking.

"Huh. What happened to the rug?" he wondered out loud. It was all flipped over.

He got out a camera France had given him and snapped a picture. It was evidence, sorta.

He kept going, noticing various other disjointed (and a few seriously damaged) pieces of furniture but no sign of England.

He opened the door to England's bedroom. It was a mess. There were clothes all over the place, and not just any clothes.

"Woah," Sealand gasped, taking a close look at one outfit. "Is that black leather?"

He went through the rest of the mess, camera clicking furiously.

"Hmf," he said, smothering a giggle at one incredibly frilled outfit. "Was he actually thinking about wearing this? I mean, I guess it's better than that tattered thing that smelled like a cross between salt and pee, but seriously?"

Some of the stuff was pretty cool, though. "I am so keeping this," Sealand announced, holding up a badass-looking eyepatch.

A book on the bed caught his eye.

'The Ecology of Anteaters,' it read. ('Definitely not a spellbook' was written in _very_ fine print underneath.)

Sealand flipped it open, recognizing some odd words that he'd thought he'd heard before.

"Hmmm," he said, "This could be important." He pocketed the book and kept searching.

* * *

><p>America closed his eyes, now no doubt in his mind where he wanted to go.<p>

Then he opened them to a small _pop!._

_Hey!_ He realized. Dark as it was, America could still tell where he was. _This is Japan's house! I teleported!_

"Cool," he whispered. There wasn't much chance of anyone hearing him, as he was about as high above Japan's house as he had been above England's.

He slowly flew downwards, observing. Japan wasn't outside, as far as America could tell. He slowly realized that he didn't really know what he wanted to do. He'd wanted to go hang out with Japan, but he wasn't sure he could even get in like this. Japan didn't open the door for just anyone, and he probably wasn't strong enough to rip the window off. Maybe he should go back to England's house.

The dilemma was being solved for him more rapidly than he realized, however. See, Britannia Angel takes a small bit of magical power and makes it vastly more accessible. So it trades full power for ease of access, frequently necessary given the complex incantations normally required to summon such power.

It wasn't normally supposed to be used for more than one or two spells… and America certainly hadn't been experienced enough to put as much power into it as normal.

America began to feel unaccountably uneasy as the wings grayed and dimmed behind him. Fortunately, he had flown relatively low when they gave out and he abruptly plummeted downwards, frantically trying (and failing-it was dark out!) to grab something. He hit the ground with a painful _thump_.

"Ouch," America muttered, slumping down next to Japan's house. The tree branches had lacerated his outfit and his skin, resulting in a somewhat frightening amount of small cuts. Otherwise, however, he had escaped mostly unharmed-rather luckily, actually.

_So what now?_ He absentmindedly wondered. _I guess I've got to go try and knock at Japan's house…I probably should get these bandaged up._ _Still, Japan probably wouldn't let England in, since he doesn't know him that well. Not willingly, anyway._

America walked up and rang the doorbell. A light came on in Japan's house.

_Okay_, he told himself firmly. Then, not so firmly, _How in the world am I going to explain this?_

* * *

><p>Japan had just relaxed into a calm sleep when he was suddenly jolted awake by a muted thump.<p>

_What could that possibly be?_ he wondered, checking his bedside clock. It was around 11:00.

Japan turned around to go back to sleep. It was far too late to be messing with these things. He would investigate in the morning.

A few moments later the doorbell rang.

_I sincerely hope this isn't some sort of prank_, Japan thought, slipping his nearest outfit on over his nightwear.

Needless to say, he was a little surprised to find England on his doorstep.

"Aah, England. To what do I owe the honor?" Japan always made sure to observe the courtesies, even in odder situations.

For a few seconds England stared blankly at him. "It's... complicated," he admitted somewhat sheepishly.

Japan nearly raised an eyebrow at the tone and the accent. He didn't know English well enough to quite pinpoint the difference, but he could tell something was off. However, as England stepped into the light, Japan was quickly distracted by the plentiful cuts that England seemed to have all over his body.

"My apologies for keeping you outside, England. Why don't you sit down? I'll go get some antiseptic and some bandages."

"Thanks," England said gratefully. Once again, Japan couldn't help but note something off in England's usual accent. Refraining from mentioning this, he went to go get the promised supplies.

He came back to find England had taken off his shirt and pants.

"Ummm…" Japan stuttered, eyes wide, trying to comprehend the sight before him. In his experience, England had been fairly prudish-as was Japan. "I'm back," was all he managed to say.

"Oh, good," England said, evidently relieved. "I didn't see how we were going to get a bandage on through those clothes, so I took them off."

"I …see," Japan remarked. Together, they started washing and cleaning England's plentiful wounds, Japan acutely embarrassed.

Despite his immense confusion over England's actions and current injuries (was that _tree bark_?), Japan couldn't help but notice the old wounds-scars, not obvious unless one looked closely, even more than Japan had, though not always as deep. With one noticeable exception-a deep gash right over his heart that Japan almost mistook for a current injury. He almost asked, but decided against it.

A fair bit later, England said "Phew, I'm glad that's done," slumping down in his chair.

_He looks exhausted_, Japan noted. "England, would you like to sleep over here tonight?" he offered. "We can talk in the morning."

"Yeah…that sounds like a good idea," England admitted. Japan showed him to a spare bed, then returned to his own.

_What an odd night_, he thought, slowly relaxing back into sleep.

* * *

><p>AN:

That little book is going to be the bane of England's existence. For those of you who've wondered why spellbooks are always so thick/long and why they don't have little mini ones that only have one or two important spells that you can carry around…this is why.

I'm not really planning to explain the scar. I probably shouldn't have put it in, anyway, as it's not something I completely agree with. It wasn't my idea—Kimanda came up with it in her excellent (though, at times, considerably darker than this [though it isn't nearly as bad as the first chapter throughout]) fic 'Behind the mask,' which is on my favorites list. A second warning, however—the author's native language is not English, and while she clearly makes good use of a spellchecker, there will be grammar errors.

I just realized that this is the second time in this fic that America has been injured by a tree. I'm starting to suspect a conspiracy.

I also need to note: America doesn't think England and Japan know each other that well because he's…well…stereotypically American, and thus doesn't know that much about world history. I'll admit that I had no idea that England and Japan had ever had an alliance until I read about it in Hetalia. After reading that strip, though, I can't help but think that they'd get along fairly well, and that England might come over (or vice versa) from time to time (though not nearly as often as America would—England and Japan live on opposite sides of the world, after all.).

Also? That is how Britannia Angel has worked in my head for a long time. How have you thought of it?

On a final note: Poor Japan.


	20. I bet it'll involve that flying saucer

CCG – I really would like to update this faster, but school puts some pretty harsh demands on my time. When summer comes around, I'll be (hopefully) updating once a week.

Marina – America doesn't strike me as a particularly great actor either. Can't really answer much of the rest of this paragraph without getting spoilery. I know what you mean about being busy. I hope you do get an account when you have the time. Then I could PM you, for one thing. For another, I'm curious about what you'd write—but this probably isn't the best place to get into that discussion.

In honor of getting a hundred reviews (congrats, Luigi1997) and reaching my twentieth chapter, this chapter is extra early and twice as long! It's also one of my personal favorites of all the chapters I've written so far. That said, I'm sorry if you were one of the people who I told that I'd have this chapter out around last week. I got started writing this, and it sort of…expanded. Over the course of an extra week. I don't quite regret it, though—it was fun to write, and I don't think it should have been split into two chapters.

We'll be leaving Japan and America momentarily—here's what England's been up to. (Enjoy!)

* * *

><p><em>Okay, I'm here<em>, England thought, looking up at America's house. _Now what?_

In the end, he just went in. He didn't really think America would bother to hide, even if he did make a racket.

A half an hour or so later, England was starting to feel that he might need to revise that hypothesis. _Either he's not here, or he's hiding somewhere I don't…know…about… _

_Looks like it's time to find out if he actually has anything on the second floor. I still don't know where the stairs are, though (and I'm starting to wonder if he even has them, the blasted idiot…who has a second story without stairs?)._

England started walking towards the back of the house. He reached the balcony and swallowed nervously. Not only was the balcony a good distance above his head, what pegs hadn't been broken off looked like they could fall with only the slightest encouragement. England started seriously wondering if he should go looking for a ladder, but he hadn't seen any, and he didn't really have much time to spare. After all, if America wasn't here (and England was beginning to suspect this might be correct), he was pretty much guaranteed to be somewhere England desperately didn't want him to be.

Even so, a few practice jumps certainly wouldn't hurt. England backed away from the nearby obstacles into America's fairly spacious backyard.

He was about to jump. He definitely was! Just…a little bit longer…

_Okay, why the hell am I so scared?_ England asked himself, more trying to pep-talk himself than as a serious question. _I've done much, much more risky things in my life than jumping a few dozen feet. It's true that I'm not exactly acrobatic, but I'm not trying to do flips or anything either. It's not even that high! _

England looked back at the rickety balcony. It was _definitely_ "that high."

_Maybe it would be better if I did it near the obstacles. So I could grab something when I fall. No_, England reminded himself, _that's irrational. Anything I could grab looks like it's about to come off, anyway._

…You know how when about to dive off a diving board (or something similar)? How you talk and talk and talk to yourself, and then you just do it? That's what happened. England jumped…about a foot.

He promptly felt so idiotic that his next jump went a good four feet off the ground. He caught his breath. It was pretty high up. Then he came back down, reflexively bending his knees to avoid the shock. It didn't hurt at all.

Somewhat more eagerly, England jumped again, and again, working his way up to the height of the balcony, and building up confidence.

_I should try a flip!_ he thought excitedly, caught up in the thrill of the moment. He pulled it off effortlessly. A few more assorted and rather impressive gymnastics followed.

It took several more jumps for him to remember the balcony, and that he was, in fact, on a schedule. Embarrassed to realize he had forgotten, he took a running start and made it in one perfect jump. He mentally started to congratulate himself before the embarrassment hit again and he reminded himself that he had, in fact, been behaving very childishly.

_If America asks me about where I was, _England mentally noted_, I'm leaving this part out._

He swatted at Nantucket (which had gotten in his face during the jumping), opened the balcony door, walked in, and was immensely frustrated to immediately notice several computer terminals. Nevertheless, there wasn't exactly much he could do with them now.

"America?" England called. He walked further in. There was plenty of dust, but it was mostly hidden along the sides of the hallways, and most of the floors had clearly been in use recently.

England opened the next door he came to. A clearly booted up computer terminal flickered from the back.

_So he is here_, England thought smugly. Not that he really had any right to be smug about it. Really, where else would America go?

England suddenly realized that if he was here, there was a good chance America had seen his little practice jumps. He firmly pushed that thought to the back of his mind, wondering instead why he had attached the 'if'. Probably because it boggled his mind to realize America could stay quiet for this long. Still, there was the computer, quite clearly on.

_Of course, he might have just accidentally left that computer on_, England suddenly realized. _Just because I would never be so irresponsible doesn't mean America wouldn't. Still, he does usually seem to take pretty good care of his technology. If nothing else._

Now needing confirmation, England walked over and sat down next to the computer terminal. Some sort of photoshop program was pulled up.

England pressed a few buttons, trying to figure out what exactly this thing was. He succeeded in drawing a few circles.

A few minutes later, he had a pretty decent rose etched on the screen for a program that mostly used circles. Satisfied, he pulled up the save menu.

_What the heck?_ England thought, confused. Instead of the normal computer directory, the save slots consisted of a country and a date. He scrolled through them until one in particular jumped out at him.

Japan. England abruptly remembered the time Japan told him that America came over to his house fairly frequently. He abruptly saved the image and pushed the computer back.

"…shit," England groaned. He wouldn't ever have done it in company, but he finally felt the need to rant. This really required some heavy cussing. "[MANY profanities omitted] Japan knows us both! There's no way America could fake that. Stupid, [beeeeeeep] bodyswap. What the [beeeeep] am I going to do?"

He managed to calm himself down. Maybe America had gotten lost. It would certainly be dark enough for it at Japan's house. Or maybe Japan's doorbell wasn't working. England mentally clung to these thoughts.

Then he heard the door open behind him.

-Rewind a few minutes-

Tony came back from the restroom feeling suitably refreshed. He paused before the doorway as he heard a fairly vehement "…shit." in what was unmistakably America's voice… with a British accent. Inwardly, Tony seethed at the reminder of the limey.

The first profanity was followed by many colorful others. Tony couldn't help but be a little impressed by the show. He hadn't thought America knew many curse words, but the other nation was rapidly proving him wrong. In fact, it wasn't long before Tony started delightedly jotting down notes of some of the more exotic ones.

Consequently, he was paying enough attention to piece together the coherent pieces of information that slipped loose. At first he was confused (_though it would explain the clothes and the accent..._), then briefly mad, worried, and finally pridefully amused as he realized that America was the cause of England's tirade. Not that that was surprising; America never had been that good at keeping secrets, and England obviously wanted to keep this whole thing under wraps. Which, of course, gave Tony a lovely idea.

He opened the door. _This is going to be priceless._

England turned and saw him.

Tony smiled devilishly. "Hi there, fucking limey."

England's expression was indeed priceless. Tony smiled wider.

A few seconds later, England recovered sufficiently to say, flatly, somewhat threateningly, "You didn't hear ANY of that, and you most definitely did not just refer to America by a derogatory slang term usually reserved for the British."

"Oh?" said Tony, "I'd say I fucking did."

"The fact that I'm currently capable of throwing you through several walls suggests otherwise," England caustically replied.

"Don't think America'd be too happy about that."

"America also thinks I love you. He'd believe me if I told him someone else did it."

Tony privately had to concede the point. He frowned slightly.

"Well, okay, _America_, whatever. Nice acrobatics you were doing earlier, by the way."

England turned a scarlet shade of red normally reserved for his national flower. Tony's frown disappeared.

"Wish I got a video now. Still, that's one that people'll take by word of mouth. Wonder what _England _will think."

England sputtered. "Bastard."

"Fucking limey."

There was a small pause as the room roiled with their hate.

"You just remember: You never saw any of this. Jumps included, or you're going through the wall."

"Okay," Tony replied, cheerfully, privately adding_, but only 'till America gets back_.

"See ya. I've got work to do," Tony added, shoving past England and plopping into the chair. "I'd guess you do too, based on those profanities."

"I just have to check…is America here?"

Tony looked at England like he was an idiot, a moron, a retard and several other variations on the words 'stupid person.' "You _really_ have to ask? Believe me, you'd know if America was here. He's sorta hard to miss."

England sputtered, searching for a comeback. Failing to find anything properly vituperative, he slowly admitted, "Normally, yeah, it's just that he's managed to surprise me a few times already."

Tony turned and looked at him for a few seconds.

"Yeah…sometimes he surprises me too. Now skedaddle, limey."

England bristled at the insult, but decided not to take umbrage, and opted instead to walk back out, drop down from the balcony, and start heading towards Japan's house.

Tony looked back at the monitor and saw that everything he had been working on had been erased.

"Fuck!" he shouted, leaping out of the chair and dashing out to the balcony. "You fucking better come back and fix this, fucking limey!"

England looked back, briefly, and smiled sweetly. (Actually, it was closer to a smirk, but either way it was obvious England wasn't coming back.)

"Oh, I am going to fucking get him for that," Tony murmured as he started planning his revenge.

* * *

><p>AN: I can just picture Tony scheming, sitting at that computer, hunched over a little, hands clasped together, with an evil little white cat sitting on his lap… (Okay, maybe not the last one, but still. He'd make a cool evil mastermind.)

I've re-read this chapter many times, and it consistently manages to make me crack up (especially the second part). For those who don't know, England's national flower is the rose. The first thing I thought when I heard that was 'France must have been so pissed when England picked it first…' (Then again, I don't really know much more about it than that. It really could be interpreted several different ways.).

The way England's jumps are written bothers me a little. I wanted to show him being a bit nervous, partly because he wasn't really completely convinced he'd be able to jump well in America's body (and for the obvious reasons, like the fact that it's way too high), deciding to practice a little, and slowly starting to enjoy it despite himself. When I look back, I'm not sure I really got the timing right, but I'm not quite sure how to fix it, either. Oh well.

Next chapter we'll be returning to Japan and America's antics [well, more like America's antics and Japan's confusion]. Happy belated thanksgiving to those of you in the U.S.A. Hope you pigged out on turkey and stuff. America would be proud :)


	21. Spiritual Guidance

Oh dear. I'm late! Well, not technically, since the last chapter was early, but I'm posting a new one this December, too. Maybe I should write a one-shot for Christmas?

My chapters are definitely getting longer. I could have cut this off about halfway through, left it on a funny cliffhanger and had the two pages that I was shooting for at the beginning of this fic, but I promised you guys Japan and you shall have Japan even if I have to write two more pages to do it. (Did that come out a little wrong? I'm not sure.)

Hetalia isn't mine.

* * *

><p>America was abruptly woken by a nearby giggling. Again.<p>

"Oh, come on," America complained out loud, "that's got to be the fifteenth time or so! I'm trying to get over jetlag (Or should that be angel-teleportation lag? Whatever.), here!"

He had already discovered that it was pointless to try and find the source of the sound-every time he hauled himself out of bed, the giggling would stop, only to return sometime soon after he got back in bed. Exasperated, America turned over on his side, pulling the blankets tight and plopping a pillow over his head. It successfully blocked out the sound, but 3 minutes or so later he started to suffocate and had to pull it off.

The thing giggled again. "Okay," America muttered, "That's _it._"

He leaped out of bed and charged out the door. Standing before him was a small girl with brown eyes and a pink hair ribbon. She stared wide eyed at America for a moment in that way that little kids do who realize they've just been caught doing something naughty.

"So, care to explain why you've been keeping me up all night?" America asked, somewhat more menacingly than intended.

The girl giggled and spun on her toes, swiftly racing away.

"Hey! Come back!" America shouted, chasing after her.

The girl giggled again and kept running away.

_She's fast!_ America realized, breathing heavily.

He rounded the corner. The girl had just gone out through the back of the house. It was dark out, but for some reason America could see her clearly, standing several yards away. She'd stopped, and was looking back at him. America slowly walked out, keeping his eyes on the girl, ready to take a wild dash if she started to run again.

She turned around. America broke into a sprint.

This lasted about two seconds before America tripped on the edge of the bath.

"Woah—" He panicked as he fell. SPLASH.

"Phtaagh!" America surfaced in the shallow end, spitting and coughing up the lukewarm water, feeling surprisingly awkward in the shallow end of the bath.

The girl had turned back. She giggled again.

"I'm surprised you forgot about the pool," she said in a quiet, cheerful tone.

"Wait. Wait a minute," America replied. "It's really dark out, so why can I see you so clearly?"

"Because you can see ghosts?" the little girl suggested, somewhat confused.

For a second, there was silence, as America's brain processed that response and, disliking what it found, promptly threw it out and tried again.

The girl took this as her cue to proceed. "Let's play tag! I'm it!" She lunged for America, whose brain decided it was time to accept the inevitable.

"Aaaaaaaah!" America screamed, twirling around and trying to get back up on land. He was almost there when the ghost tackled him into it.

He stopped screaming, and twisted back around, bringing his mouth out of the water.

"Wait. I thought you said you were a ghost, but you didn't go right through me."

"I never said I was a ghost. I'm a spirit."

"What's the difference?" asked America, curiosity overriding fear. Besides, she wasn't a ghost. A (large) part of him was screaming _Spirits are the same thing! Run for it!_ but he decided to cautiously ignore that bit. So far, she hadn't tried to eat him or anything.

"Well…ghosts are born supernatural creatures. They can be mischievous at times, and you can usually stick your hand through them. Spirits are more spirits of people who have died, but still have some obligation left to fulfill on earth, or something they've sworn to do, in such a way that their spirit can't leave. I can't levitate as well as a ghost (because I'm heavier, sort of) and I can't possess people (though some spirits can), but I can be solid. There are some other differences, but they're smaller

"So…you can lift things and stuff?"

"Yes, normally."

"And most people can't see you."

"Yes."

"I just got the most _awesome _idea."

* * *

><p>Japan had been awoken by a scream, followed by a most distinct sound of plopping water. Japan got up immediately (he hadn't been sleeping that well anyway) and started throwing on the clothes, trying to insure that no misaimed pranker drowned.<p>

_Korea told me he was busy today, so it shouldn't be him… I do hope that America didn't try to come in through the back this time_, Japan worried. _The bath isn't that hard to miss… he might have tripped… if he's in the deep end, he might be in trouble…_

Japan forced himself to relax on that count. There was a reason America usually won the swimming in the Olympics. He was an excellent swimmer, even if Japan had learned that from an incident in which he had pretended otherwise.

_And anyway, he's a nation. He wouldn't die that easily. Of course, it could still be some other prankster_, Japan continued to worry.

He reached the door to the bath and threw it open, flipping on the light.

"Oh, hi, Japan," England said, somewhat sheepishly.

After the brief moment of surprise (this wasn't anything compared to the rest of the night), Japan cautiously asked "Did you get kept up by that…little girl…again?" hoping the answer was no.

England was obviously surprised by the comment. "Yeah, she was making a racket. How'd you guess?"

"Aah…just the similarity of the situations. I suppose you may have forgotten; it was one of your earlier visits."

England's eyebrows furrowed in surprise, an especially impressive expression on him. After a few seconds he replied, somewhat belatedly, "Yeah, I don't remember too well. Guess I'm getting old, huh."

_Except England has a pretty good memory…_Japan shoved that thought aside. England could certainly act forgetful when tired, even if he claimed it was because he was being distracted by ghosts. It was probably most important to simply get England back to sleep.

Suddenly, the lights in the house flickered and went out. Despite the fact that it had been completely dark when Japan first ran out and that he had been watching England through the whole conversation, a small, candle-burning lamp, previously overshadowed by the electric lights, was still giving off light. Japan stared at it for a few seconds. _How exactly did that get set up? Where did it come from? I don't think I have any candle lamps, except perhaps hidden somewhere in the older depths of my house._

"Thanks for bringing this out here, by the way," England said, addressing the air as he climbed out of the pool and picked up the small lantern.

"I …didn't bring that out here, England."

"Well, yeah," England replied. "The little girl did. She's still here, if you want to say thanks, too." England looked at him expectantly, perhaps almost a little mischievously. Japan quickly dismissed that notion. Mischievous was something England was certainly not.

Japan decided to be polite, even if he was of the private view that he was addressing something imaginary. "I am grateful that you brought a light out. "

"She says you're welcome," England forwarded happily.

Japan decided it was time to change the topic. "You must be cold, England. You don't want to get sick. Why don't you come inside and dry off?"

"Oh yeah. That would be a good idea," England replied, somewhat downcast. "Maybe next time," he told the air.

Determined to steer England away from his conversation with imaginary friends, Japan grabbed a towel off the rack and pointed the way to a bathroom. "It's this way to the nearest restroom. I'll go get some clothes you can change into."

Japan exited, anxious to avoid any more awkward situations.

* * *

><p>AN: First up: the 'spirit' girl is lying because she doesn't want to scare America off. Wondering where she came from? Rewatch 'ghost culture of England and Japan.' This is one of the few anime episodes I have seen, and I think it's an excellent adaptation of the comic. I laughed like crazy.

I'm having trouble coming up with a prank awesome enough for America and the girl to pull. Please send me any ideas! Especially if they come via review.

Finally: have you ever been kept up by a noise like that? One that seems to stop the instant you get up to look for it? I have. It's one of the most annoying things that can happen to you. So this is an example of how life can inspire humor. I think that's an important thing to be able to do.


	22. Weirdness lands on Japan's doorstop 2

I had a pretty nice Christmas break. I hope all my readers did too. :)

For those that don't know, the Hetalia 2011 Christmas bloodbath is still going on! You can reach the live events thread from here (remove spaces): hetalia-events. livejournal

With no further ado…the madness continues!

* * *

><p>America finished changing. The girl walked in behind him.<p>

"So," she said, "we're not going through with it?"

"Well," America replied somewhat regretfully, "Not now. I'd feel sorta bad if I woke Japan up again tonight."

"Maybe…tomorrow, then?"

"I'm not sure I'll be staying that long," America admitted, "but if I'm still here, sure!"

The girl smiled faintly. "I hope you stay. It's been a while since I've had anyone to talk to."

America turned. "You don't have anyone to talk to? I mean, isn't there someone who can see you nearby, or some other spirit friends or something?"

"Not really, no."

"That must be horrible."

"Well, I spend most of the time asleep…but yeah."

There was a short silence.

"So…you want to talk a bit longer?" America awkwardly asked.

The girl smiled.

* * *

><p>Amazingly enough, America managed not to wake Japan up when he finally went back to sleep. That honor went to England, who had had a really long day and was feeling just irritated enough to wake Japan up a half an hour early (It was what America would've done anyway, he was sure. Given that America had done more or less the exact same thing to him a few times, he was fairly justified in this presumption.) right before the crack of dawn. To his credit, he accomplished this using the doorbell.<p>

For a while he stood, listening to the doorbell ring. At one point he thought he saw someone glance through the peephole, but wasn't sure. Eventually, he sat down to wait, and, exhausted, quickly fell asleep.

* * *

><p>Once again, Japan woke to the persistent chiming of his doorbell. Sighing, he dressed quickly. He was mostly done (<em>thank goodness<em>) when an obviously tired England stumbled in, rubbing his eyes.

"Where's that stupid alarm?" the other nation asked groggily. Given his current demeanor, Japan was frankly surprised that England didn't use a more intense cuss word.

"That would be my doorbell," Japan replied.

"…Oh. I thought it only rang a few times."

"It did for a while, but I recently had it fixed." _Wait, when was he here while it was like that? It hasn't been that long since America broke it…_

"So, who rang it anyway?" England looked like he'd like to do something unpleasant to whoever did.

"I'm going to find out." Japan started walking towards the door.

"I'll come with you," England replied.

"Aah…perhaps you'd like to change out of your night clothes first, England?" Japan replied, trying to politely remove the Brit. He couldn't help but expect this to be an internal matter—he couldn't think of any country that would randomly show up on his doorstep this early today (other than America, and America wouldn't have waited this long for the doorbell to ring out). If one of his government officials was coming over this early, it was probably important. _Then again, I don't feel that stressful right now. It can't be anything too problematic. _

England blinked. "Should I?"

Surprised that England didn't take the hint (and that he'd had to hint at all), Japan tried a more direct approach. "Well, it might be a government official or such who needs to talk to me urgently. They would probably prefer such a conversation to be private." They had reached the door.

"Well, okay, if it's someone like that I'll go back."

Japan decided not to press the issue further. He took a look through the peephole and promptly had to revise his previous thought about stress. America was a good friend. Really, he was. But he was also the epitome of overenthusiasm, one thing Japan didn't really feel like dealing with right now. Conclusion? Japan really, really didn't feel like having America over right now, and here he was on the doorstep. Mental sigh.

"Who is it?" England asked, evidently curious. Japan sighed, this time out loud.

"America," Japan flatly replied. "He does come over unexpectedly like this sometimes, and he can be quite energetic. I'd better let him in, or he might rip the door down. I would suggest making yourself scarce, or he might rope you into whatever game or such he came over to play."

There was a bit of silence. "Naah, I'll stay," England replied, sounding a little hurt. "I'm sure it'll be fun."

Japan looked at England in much the same manner as he did that one time when England waved at the Tengu. _Yes, America's visits can be interesting, but…_ Japan supposed the other nation was more tolerant of America than he was. England, who had his eye pressed to the peephole, was completely oblivious to his comment's effect.

"Hey," England said. "He's asleep."

"What?" Japan asked, startled.

"Yeah. He fell asleep on your doorstep."

Japan opened the door. Sure enough, America was sleeping there. Once more, Japan was surprised. America had plenty of bad habits (like eating junk food), but he usually made sure to get himself enough sleep, if only so he could stay just as energetic the next day, and what he missed in sleep he made up in coffee.

"So, what now?" England asked.

"I suppose we should take him inside," Japan sighed. "I cannot, in good conscience, just leave him sitting on the porch."

"Okay," England replied, "I'll help." He guiltily added "You'll probably need it…"

Japan raised a mental eyebrow at the tone. "Thank you."

"Okay," England abruptly replied, "I'll take his head; you take the legs."

"Fine," Japan acquiesced.

They bent to pick America up. Or rather, they tried to pick him up. England bent down and grabbed by the shoulders; Japan lifted from the legs. Even working together, it took them a while to get America up off the ground.

"Dude," grunted England, "…heavy! Damn…"

"I'll try and head inside," Japan quietly gasped.

England must not have heard, because he didn't follow as Japan pulled back. The former ended up staggering forward and just barely saving himself from a crash. America moaned in his sleep.

"Next time, tell me if you're going to move, okay?"

"I did. I suppose I may have spoken too softly…"

"Yeah, okay. Let's move _now_."

After much more grunting and awkward maneuvering, and America stirring a few times (leading Japan to suspect that he was merely doing a surprisingly convincing job of feigning sleep, as in Japan's experience, America usually took his time falling asleep but then slept like a rock once he did), they managed to deposit him on the first appropriate receptacle (which happened to be the couch.).

"…Can we just leave him there?" England asked hopefully.

"I think he'll be fine," Japan replied. "Though his behavior is rather… odd. America usually gets plenty of sleep, and when he doesn't, he makes up for it with coffee," he explained. _And I'm still not sure he's not just faking this, though I can't imagine any good reason for it... not that that's ever stopped him before..._

"Yeah…coffee sounds good…I'm gonna go check out the kitchen."

_Of course, he's not the only one behaving oddly_, Japan reflected, as England walked out of the room. _Does he even know where the kitchen is?_

"But maybe on Wednesday," America said clearly. Japan nearly jumped out of his skin.

"America, I know you don't talk in your sleep," Japan stated firmly. "Please stop this charade this instant."

America's eyes narrowed a bit. "You're an idiot, America."

_What?_ Japan thought, once again utterly confused.

For the lack of any better idea on how to proceed, Japan reached out and tilted America's head back. His eyes were closed naturally, and he was breathing evenly.

_So he is actually asleep? Except America doesn't talk in his sleep…I suppose this could still be a fake, but I can't imagine him saying that…_

_Maybe I was wrong about him sleeptalking_, Japan thought. He didn't really believe it, though. Japan was far more familiar with America's sleeping habits than he'd have liked to be.

Deciding to focus on the oddity that was actually awake, Japan turned toward the kitchen, hoping for some answers.

* * *

><p>AN

I am still looking for ideas as to what America and the spirit girl could get up to (so if you can think of anything, please share it!). It's my first experience getting writer's block on this story. I've bought myself some time with this chapter, though, I think.

America being literally quite dense has been a headcanon of mine for some time.

I sleeptalk occasionally. Apparently, 'But maybe on Wednesday' is something I've actually said.

It annoys me a bit when people write fics that America swears in a lot. As far as I can remember (although I've hardly seen everything hetalia, so please correct me if I'm wrong), the one time that America actually swore in a strip was the one about his weight, as I alluded to here (there was also a strip in which Himaruya used him to demonstrate an American movie that was heavy on the F-bomb, but I don't count that, seeing as it would contradict what we've seen of him otherwise.).

Please review :). Even if it's just a word or two, I'll be happy.


	23. Good and Bad Acting

Hello, everybody! It feels like it has been a while, especially since I've been reading an abnormally large amount of fanfic in the meantime, largely thanks to suggestions on the 2011 Christmas Bloodbath (which is still going on, as of today, February 5th-it has aptly been nicknamed 'the event that never ends.'). The thread can be found on LiveJournal, and you can access an archive of the comics from the event's page on tvtropes.

Some of those 'suggestions' were really, really good. In particular, I think anyone who enjoys my little fic would probably like geekisthenewawesome's I Cannot Tell A Lie (accessible from my favorites page).

Marina: Sorry I forgot to respond last chapter. All my alerts and such got buried in my inbox thanks to factors unrelated to fanfic. That said, I like the idea you've given me, and your first comment is pretty much exactly what I was going for. So I'm happy :)

Plugging and review-reading done, we now return to an increasingly bewildered Japan (and the source(s) of his bewilderment). Enjoy!

* * *

><p><em>Man, I know Japan keeps coffee somewhere, so WHY CAN'T I FIND IT?<em>

Frustrated, America reached out and pulled another tea packet off the shelf (having once heard that some teas were caffeinated). He had to admit that it tasted pretty nice, but he had already had a few cups and he _knew_ he needed more caffeine.

So when Japan walked in, America looked like he was in a pretty foul mood.

"Oh," America said, noting Japan. "Hey, do you have any coffee?"

Japan procured some coffee, which America happily devoured, to the former's well-concealed confusion and mild disgust. After the two cleaned up the mess, Japan sat down at the table with America.

"America was sleeptalking a few seconds ago," Japan commented.

"So…?"

"He doesn't talk in his sleep."

"How do you know that, anyway?"

"Umm," Japan ventured cautiously, "have you ever watched a horror movie with him?"

"Yeah…"

"Well…he once randomly came over and decided to have a movie night with me. We were watching a horror movie on television, and at one point, he grabbed me like a teddy bear. Then he fell asleep when we muted the device during a commercial break. I was stuck there for several hours."

_Ouch_, America thought somewhat guiltily. _I guess that's why he doesn't like watching movies on tv with me…_

"He snored occasionally," Japan continued, "but he never actually said anything. That, and I've never heard him sleeptalk any of the other times he's come over."

"Well, I don't know why he's sleeptalking now, anyway," America lied, once more feeling guilty about it. Japan was a good friend. He really shouldn't be lying to him.

"Then perhaps you could explain how you ended up on my doorstep last night?" Japan requested.

_You know what?_ America thought. _I'm just going to tell him the truth._

"Basically, I turned myself into an angel on accident using magic, and then I flew away from someone who was being a pain and decided to teleport to your house, except then the magic wore off and I fell through several trees."

Japan stared at him for several seconds.

"If you really don't want to tell me, England, I'd rather you just say so."

"Hey, I'm telling the truth!" America protested vigorously, gesturing a bit for emphasis. He accidentally knocked the coffee cup off the table. It hit the ground and shattered loudly.

"Oh…sorry," America added in a genuinely regretful tone. "I'll pick that up," he added, grabbing a few rags.

Japan just sat there, trying to decide whether or not England's statement had any truth to it.

He eventually ended up trying to guess just who had driven the poor nation insane.

The average human wouldn't be able to _seriously_ guess even one person. One might suppose it says something about the nations, then, that Japan came up with plenty of possibilities before America finished cleaning up the mess.

* * *

><p>England jolted out of bed at the sound of the crash. After a brief moment of disorientation, he realized that he was in Japan's house.<p>

_I must have fallen asleep on his doorstep_, England realized foggily, the early adrenalin wearing off. _I guess I really need some sleep…_

He toyed briefly (well, a bit more than briefly-he wasn't positioned that comfortably on the couch, but he was tired enough to barely notice) with the idea of just going back to sleep. It probably wasn't a good idea to go potentially face America and Japan at the same time while sleep deprived. On the other hand, he couldn't imagine that Japan was the cause of that crash, and he really wanted to get America out of here as soon as possible, if he was here. He could sleep at his house. Besides, he figured he'd probably gotten an hour or two of sleep, anyway, and he'd survived through considerably more life-threatening situations on far less rest.

England got up and started walking vaguely towards where he had heard the crash. A voice drifted towards him that was unmistakably his own. _Well, at least I know where he is now._

"…Sorry again about that, Japan. "

_Looks like I was right about the crash, too,_ England thought without a hint of surprise, opening the door that the voice had come from.

Both nations inside looked up, Japan from his seat at the table, America from the trash where he was apparently discarding some broken ceramics. England had to smile slightly at America's alarmed face, who was no doubt at this point remembering how England had dragged him back after the tree incident.

"Oh, I'm sorry if we woke you up, America," Japan said politely. "Would you like some coffee?"

"Actually, I'd prefer tea." The words were out of his mouth an instant before he realized he shouldn't have said them. He really needed to get some sleep.

Japan looked at him a little oddly but went to prepare a cup. England sat down next to America, who was guiltily trying to look at anything but England.

"You're going to explain this to me, _thoroughly_, later," England whispered menacingly. "For now, what do I need to know to get us out of here?"

"How should I know?" America replied, a little too loudly. Japan looked back for a second before finishing with the tea.

"Here," Japan said, bringing England his tea. England took a sip. It was pretty good tea.

"So, America," Japan asked, "Why are you here today?"

England nearly choked. _How in the world did I not anticipate this question?_

"Probably no specific reason, knowing him," America threw in, nailing the accent perfectly.

"Hey! I had a reason!" England threw back.

"Oh?" America smirked. England had to admit it was pretty convincing.

"I…just don't remember it right now." England finished lamely.

Japan sighed and seemed to accept the excuse, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like "Again?"

"You do that often?" England whispered to America.

"Don't say that like it's a bad thing," he whispered back.

"Well," Japan said, "why are you here, England? You never did fully explain that."

"I already told you: I turned myself into an an-"

"So you say," Japan swiftly interrupted, "but why?"

America shot England a look that said _help me out here!_

_How am I supposed to know?_ England thought. _I'm not as random as America is! I'd have actually had a reason!_

In the short pause that resulted, America decided to take things into his own hands.

"Well, it wasn't entirely on purpose," he said, startling England. "I was just sorta trying to mess with the magic a bit and I ended up teleporting here as an angel except then it wore off and you know the rest…"

_WHY did he say that?_ England cringed. _Japan's going to think I'm insane…_

England turned to look at Japan. _Oh, great,_ England realized, _he ALREADY thinks I'm insane._

"I suppose you'll be heading home, then?" Japan replied. _Yes!_ England thought.

"I guess so…" America replied reluctantly. England tried to give him the evil eye. [Once again, being America undermined the effect somewhat.]

"If you want to stay, you're welcome to, of course," Japan added at the apparent uncertainty.

"Yeah, I'd like to," America replied, relieved. _I'm going to KILL this idiot later._

There was a momentary lull in the conversation. America finally turned to look at England, who did his best to communicate his fury.

"So," a somewhat shaken America said, "got any new videogames?"

Japan looked at him, and then back at England, and then back at him, clearly disoriented.

_This is exactly why I need to get him OUT of here_, England thought helplessly.

"Ah…yes," Japan finally replied. "Though I didn't realize you did much gaming…"

_Oh CRAP,_ England realized. _I can't play for shit, and these two probably do that all the time…but wait. Maybe I can use this. If I ever told America that I really did like videogames…_

"YOU PLAY VIDEO GAMES?" England leaped out of his chair, trying to feign shock and surprise. Japan and America jumped a little. _Good._

"Ummm….Occasionally?" America seemed to have realized his error.

"I knew it! I have got this…this new thing you have GOT to try! C'mon!" At this point, England had grabbed America by the hand and started tugging him towards the door. America, who seemed to have also realized where England was going with this, tried his best to resist but was losing ground rapidly.

England almost had to laugh at how well this was going. He was stronger than America, Japan was making no effort to stop him from removing two loonies from his house, and if he could just think up an excuse for America's comment, it would all make sense, too. Whoever knew America's impulsiveness could be so _useful? _

Unfortunately, it didn't take America long to figure out that he wasn't going to win this physically, or to figure out his next course of attack.

"Could you at least _tell me _what you're dragging me out the door for, you impulsive _idiot?_" America logically (and very Britishly) demanded.

_You know_, England realized in the back of his head_, I can see why he finds it annoying when I do that. _

In the front of his head, he was trying to figure out what in the world he was going to say. He was aware of the videogame industry, but he didn't really follow it the way America and Japan did. He simply couldn't name something that he could confidently say would make sense.

_I'm thinking too logically_, he reminded himself. _I'm America. I don't HAVE to give him a good answer. _

"Everything!" England gleefully exclaimed. The look on America's face was hilariously ironic.

"But…but…" America stuttered, "That doesn't answer the QUESTION! Or make any SENSE!"

"Sure is annoying, isn't it?" England whispered back, finally pulling America out of the kitchen.

"Now wait a minute-" America began to protest.

"Frankly, I think it's high time someone gave you a taste of your own medicine," England added smugly, pulling much faster now that Japan was out of sight and the door to the kitchen was closed. "It was hilarious," he continued, unable to resist rubbing it in. "I could just SEE you thinking _There's no way he's going to get away with this, right?_ And then realizing '_Oh, wait, I do this all the time!'_"

"…What are you _talking_ about?" America demanded huffily.

"Oh, I was just waiting for an excuse," England triumphantly continued. "How do you want the list of the times you've pulled stuff like that? In chronological or alphabetical order? Oh well, I think I'll just recount a few of the more recent. Remem-"

"Where exactly are you pulling me, anyway?" America interrupted.

"…Towards the front door, of course," England replied. _At least, I think this is the right way…_

"Dude, you obviously don't know this place that well—"

"Figures that YOU'd be familiar with the kitchen area," England muttered.

"—_Anyway_, you're pulling me the wrong way."

England slowed down and looked America in the eye. His extensive experience with the other nation had given him a pretty good sense for when America was lying, but he wasn't sure this time. Maybe it was because of the swap.

"So, hypothetically, if I am pulling you the wrong way, which would be the _right_ way?"

"Why should I tell _you_?"

"…Because if you don't tell me, I can just go back and ask Japan?"

"And how, exactly, are you going to explain your sudden amnesia?

The kitchen door swung open. England swiftly pulled America behind a corner. Japan walked out and glanced in both directions, evidently having second thoughts about just letting the two run off. Then, much to England's annoyance, he started walking in the other direction, presumably towards the front door.

"Three words: I toooold you so."

"That's four words, idiot," England automatically replied. It looked like the 'ask Japan' plan was off the table. Not only that, it looked like they needed to find some way out other than the front door.

"I hate to ask," England said, "But if there's one person (other than Japan) who would know a back way out of this house it's you."

"Yeah, I know a way," America replied. "Why would you hate to ask?"

"Why would you know a back way out of Japan's house?"

"Well, I was trying to find a way to prank him, an—"

"This is why I was afraid to ask."

"…I don't get it."

"Just show me how we can get out of here."

"Okay, this way. And could you please stop grabbing my wrist? I think you're cutting the blood off there."

"Only if you promise to not instantly run for it."

"Ok-" Then England remembered the chibi chase.

"And I don't mean that as in 'wait ten seconds, and then run for it.'"

"Okay, fine," America replied, annoyed.

_How do I even know he's leading me the right way?_ England suddenly wondered_. I mean, there are quite a few places in this house that I'll recognize, but I obviously don't know it as well as he does…_

"Why were you putting up such a fuss earlier if you're going to cooperate with me anyway?"

"Because that's the sort of thing you'd do?" America said slyly.

"Ha ha," England said dryly.

"Okay, honestly, it was because I didn't really want to come with you, partly because I thought you were going to kill me as soon as we were out of Japan's sight. But that obviously hasn't happened, and I realized that I don't really want to explain this to Japan either, and I think he would have gotten me to eventually, so yeah."

"Okay, I believe you," England said.

"Thanks. This way." England followed.

* * *

><p>AN: This has become one of my favorite scenes in this whole fic. I was laughing when I re-read it, even though all the awesome fanfic I've read this last month had left me a bit lacking in self-confidence.

My chapters were originally generally around 2 and a half pages long. This one is seven, partly because I just couldn't bring myself to split it. I think the conclusion that my chapters are getting longer is unavoidable at this point. I know how nice it is to have more of something you like to read, but I'm actually starting to wonder about my pacing. Looking at what I've already wrote and what I have planned out, it seems like the pacing of this story is slowing considerably, and I'm not sure how I feel about that.

How do you? Please review!


	24. A Hairy Situation

Turns out I didn't die. Woo-hoo?

*Crickets chirping*

Okay, this is late. Not technically, because I'm trying to update once a month, and this is still March, but…it's the last day of March. I'm sorry for the wait.

It's this late for a few reasons. One, I had a lot of work in my classes recently. I'm sure I'm not the only one who has this problem sometimes.

Two, I actually have another fic that devoured a lot of my writing time. It isn't unusual for me to think of an idea and write out a bit of it, and some of the stuff I've gotten this way is pretty good, but it usually doesn't go much farther than 10 pages, max. However, this time, the little plot-bunny in question just kept me hooked. I've already written nearly seventy pages for it in Word—for comparison, if you just look at the story for Bodyswap so far, including this chapter, it only totals 76 pages, and I've been writing this story for nearly a year now (Of course, if you count the authors notes, Bodyswap easily has this new one beat, but the point is that I wrote _seventy pages_ in _one month_, though most of that was over Spring Break.). The working title for this new fic is Jungle (no relation to the book).

However, I feel the need to note that I probably won't be publishing any of Jungle for a while. It's a much more serious story than Bodyswap, and I want to be fairly sure of the plot and general writing style before I release it.

The third reason is that this chapter of Bodyswap is a pretty important one. You'll see why when you read it. Point is, it kept getting bigger and turned out a lot longer than I expected it to.

As consolation for the lateness, however, this chapter is both an important one AND has the largest amount of story (and total wordcount) of any thus far. Enjoy!

* * *

><p><em>Just two more turns<em>, America thought.

"Are you taking me out to that hot spring/bath?" England asked.

"Yeah," America replied. "If you go around the back, near the deep end, there's a place where the fence is a little broken that I always jumped over."

"…Are you sure you're going to be able to get over it in my body?" England asked.

"Yeah, that's why I picked it. I'm going to have to climb, though."

"…What, exactly, could possibly be even harder to get over?"

"There's th—Wait a minute. You aren't going to tell Japan about this stuff, are you?" America said suspiciously.

"No, I'm just curious."

"Yeah…we're almost here, anyway."

America slid open the door and the two stepped out onto the porch. Steam rose from the spring in the early dawn air. America sidled around to the deep end of the pool, with England following a little less gracefully.

"It's getting a little narrow here, America," England said uneasily.

"Slippery, too. Don't tell me you're scared of the big bad deep end, England," America teased. He looked back.

England looked more uncomfortable than his voice had betrayed. He seemed to be trying a bit too hard to hug the wall. _Is he _sweating?_ Nah, that's just the steam._

England noticed that America had stopped moving and looked up fiercely. "I know what you're thinking," England whispered. "Don't you dare."

How could he ignore _that_?

"Hey," America grinned mischievously, "you're already wet, anyway." He swiftly slipped closer and pushed England into the pool.

"AAAAAAAAAAH!" the latter screamed. Then he hit the water and started thrashing like crazy.

"Ahahaha!" America laughed. England would get him for it later, but it was definitely worth it.

The laughter died down. England was still thrashing about in the water like….well…like a drowning person.

_Wait a minute_, America realized. _He's not pulling my leg. England's seriously in trouble._

Naturally, America was already in the water by the time he'd finished that thought. He quickly swam up to England and tried to push him towards the wall, but got hit by a flailing arm—hard. Now England wasn't the only one panicked.

"C'mon! Stop thrashing, England!" America shouted. "I can haul you back to shore, just stop it!"

If England heard, he didn't take the advice. America dived down to the bottom of the pool, then gritted his teeth and thrust himself back up. He slammed into England and managed to push him close to the wall. America clambered out of the pool and started pulling England out, who finally stopped thrashing and started gasping.

"Are you going to be okay?" America asked, genuinely concerned.

"Yeah, I think so," England panted. "Just give me a second."

America waited for England to return (more or less) to normal before commenting.

"So- you can't swim?"

This was probably one of America's worse ideas (and given who we're talking about, that's really saying something).

"**I'VE TOLD YOU THAT BEFORE, YOU FUCKING GIT!**" England screamed, before gasping a bit more, evidently not fully recovered.

"Whe—"

"**You**, you oblivious, self-centered **BRAT** of a country, you could have KILLED me!"

"Bu—"

"I even told you **NOT** to! **WHY THE HELL DID YOU PUSH ME IN?**"

"Because I thought it would be funny?"

England grabbed his throat. _Holy shit,_ America realized, gasping desperately for air, _This really hurts. This actually HURTS. Am I…am I…really…in trouble? Is h- _

Across the pool, the door slammed open. England stopped trying to strangle America, who weakly muttered "God bless Japan!"

"America?" Japan asked. "Why were you trying to strangle England? And what in the world is going on out here? I heard you shouting! Didn't you two leave already?"

England cursed under his breath. America couldn't suppress a bit of a smile.

* * *

><p>-Rewind a few minutes. A few fairly peaceful minutes.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-..-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-<p>

Japan had indeed gone to the front door. Unable to find either country, he gave up the search pretty quickly and returned to his room to try and decide whether or not he should try to do anything about it.

The situation was just too odd. _England doesn't play videogames, not really. And I can't believe America would just run off without me when videogames are on his mind. He'd have "invited" me to come, too—he's even tried to get all three of us to play together before! (not that that's ever really worked out.). And since when did he drink tea?_

…_.For that matter, since when did England drink coffee? And that's ignoring all the other stuff…_

That was when he heard America scream "_**I'VE TOLD YOU THAT BEFORE, YOU FUCKING GIT!**__"_

…_like that._

Anyway, Japan hauled himself off his bed. His room was pretty close to the bath, so he could tell pretty much where the screams were coming from.

Then he slammed open the door, and was greeted by one of the odder sights of the day.

America, who was soaking wet and had been trying to strangle England (who was also soaking wet), quickly took his hands off, briefly flashing Japan a face of uncharacteristic anger and alarm before he composed himself into an equally uncharacteristically stolid expression.

"America?" Japan asked. "Why were you trying to strangle England? And what in the world is going on out here? I heard you shouting! Didn't you two leave already?"

…and England was _smiling_. It could have been a smirk, but there was something just a little bit off about it.

America spoke first. "He….he pushed me in the pool!" he exclaimed angrily, gesturing towards England.

"Oh come on! You're FINE! And it was hilarious!"

_England's definitely smiling,_ Japan couldn't help but note. _…And…he pushed America in? And America's this upset? It's almost like…its almost like…_

Japan had a certain sense of deja-vu that he just couldn't place.

"You…you!" America sputtered, grabbing England by the collar.

"Oh, come on, you don't really want to choke me," England said, tilting his head back with a certain particular cockiness that felt suspiciously familiar.

Suddenly, something clicked in Japan's head. He HAD seen this before.

"You two haven't just decided to switch personalities for no good reason, have you?" he sighed. He could still remember the day that Italy and Germany had pulled that stunt on him back in WW2. He had been so confused…

Of course, Japan still didn't really expect the reaction he got. Both America and England stopped bickering with each other and looked at him in silent shock for a moment, before England-_**England!**_-burst out heartily LAUGHING, clapped a still-disgruntled America on the back and said "We might as well tell him, you know. He's practically got it figured out!"

"But—" America protested.

"Oh, come ON. Japan's a trustworthy guy. We really should've just told him sooner."

"Fine," America huffed. "YOU explain."

"…you're evil, you know that?"

"Could you just explain, please?" Japan interrupted.

"Okay," England replied cheerfully. "Just let us get back around the pool, okay?"

"Fine," Japan said. He was in a much better mood now that he was finally going to find out _what the heck was going on._

The two made it back around to the proper side of the pool. Japan looked at England expectantly.

"It's pretty simple, actually," England said. "We switched bodies. I'm America, and this," he said, pointing at America, "is England."

Japan stared at him. "You're kidding, right?" _Then again_, a voice in the back of his head said, _it WOULD explain a lot…._

"No, I'm serious!" England-_America,_ if he was to be believed-exclaimed. "Try me."

"What do you mean?"

"You know, ask me something that England wouldn't know that I would."

"How would I know that America didn't just tell you earlier?"

"Well, you could ask me a couple of questions, I guess. We spend so much time together, it shouldn't be _that _hard…"

"…He still could have told you."

"I don't tell England everything, you know," America-as-England said, annoyed.

"Oh, for goodness sakes," America (_England?_) interrupted. "I'LL tell you a few things I know America doesn't know. I made the Anglo-Japanese Alliance with you in 1902 (America: "The what? Did you mention anglerfish?"), and helped you out against Russia. I taught you English—"

"Hey, I helped him _maintain_ it!"

"-I don't want to know, do I? And, despite what America seems to think, I'm still fairly good friends with you today."

"—Wait, WHAT? What do you guys DO together, anyway?"

"We _talk,_ like _normal people_."

"…but what do you DO?"

"You don't have to have any specific activity to do to spend time with people, you know."

"I'm convinced," Japan interjected, sensing a stupid argument brewing. "Why don't you two come inside and dry off, and then finish explaining the details?"

They both followed him inside, America muttering "I'm totally better friends with him, anyway," not quite softly enough to escape detection. England rolled his eyes. Japan pretended not to notice.

"Actually," England added, "I haven't gotten much sleep in a while. I didn't bring a sleeping bag, so I'll probably crash on the couch again when I'm done showering."

"You don't have to do that, England. I have a guest room now."

"Then why did you put me on the couch in the first place?"

Japan glanced at America, who obviously didn't want to answer.

"We were having a hard time moving you, actually," Japan confessed.

"How hard could it be? America's not _that_ big. There _were _two of you, right?"

"Well, I'm sorta dense," America guiltily admitted.

"Figuratively and literally," England snickered.

"You know what I meant," America snapped.

"England, if you want to go first, the shower is right down that hallway," Japan said hurriedly.

"Thanks," England replied. He started walking towards the shower.

_This is still really weird_, Japan thought. _I just can't shake the feeling that it's America walking down that hallway._

England suddenly turned back and said, a little worried, "There are towels in there, right?"

"Of course," Japan replied. _It is a shower room, what did he expect?_

England turned back towards the shower.

"I should probably get some more sleep, too," America said slowly. "I think the coffee isn't working as well as it normally does…"

"Aren't you _cold?_"

"Nah, I'm tough."

"…You're England right now."

"Oh, it's mostly psychological anyway."

"And you have goosebumps all over your arms."

"…Okay, a towel _would _be nice."

"I have a few out near the pool."

"Why didn't we grab one while we were out there?"

"I was still trying to digest your explanation, and neither of you grabbed one (which is somewhat odd, now that I think about it, since you both know where they are…)."

"Why can't we just grab one from the shower room?"

"I don't think England would appreciate that, America."

So they walked back out again. The sun was just finishing its rise, casting a warm, ambient golden glow over everything and causing brightly dappled patterns of light to dance over the pool and porch where the rays filtered through the gently rising steam. The water in the pool lapped gently at its sides.

"It's sorta pretty out," America commented.

"It is," Japan agreed.

"Hard to believe how quickly that went," America added, grabbing a towel. "I mean, England showed up, what, 15 minutes before dawn?"

"How long have you two been swapped, anyway?"

"…About two days, now that I think about it. Popping into your place really threw my internal clock. …. Man, two days. It felt a lot longer."

"Are you saying that that angel thing really happened?"

"Yeah, more or less."

"You genuinely expect me to believe that?"

"Hey, you believed me when I told you about the swap."

"Yes, but that actually made some sense, and I knew you didn't know about the Anglo-Japanese alliance."

"Well, we can get England to confirm it later. What do you mean, 'it actually made some sense?' I thought I was doing a pretty good job of acting England. I mean the videogame thing was a bit of a slip up, but still. His face was so hilarious when I demanded that he explain what was going on…"

"You asked for coffee," Japan said.

"Oh yeah. But how can I live without coffee?"

"And," Japan added, looking away, a little embarrassed, "When you first showed up…England wouldn't just strip like that."

"Oh man, I forgot about these bandages," America replied, completely missing the point. "They're going to be all soggy. Could you help me put them back on? I can't reach every spot."

"Frankly, I'd prefer it if England helped you with that," Japan said honestly.

"Ah, please? England wraps them so tight I swear it cuts off my circulation. I'm starting to suspect he does it on purpose."

"I'll…consider it." Translation: 'I'd really rather not.'

"Yay! Thanks!"

"Let's go back inside," Japan said hurriedly, turning toward the door. "I think we all need some sleep, and I'm not sure where I'm going to put both of you…"

"Can't we just stay at that hotel we all stay at when you host a world meeting? I really liked their little towel critters."

"You have to have reservations for that, America."

"Oh, well, I guess England can crash on the couch."

A towel-clothed England walked up behind them. "I finished my shower. I heard my name mentioned; what are you two talking about?"

"We-" Japan began.

"How in the world did you shower so fast?" America interrupted.

"Unlike **some** people, I don't wallow for hours in the hot water, especially when I'm in someone else's body," England replied, evidently a little bit more than annoyed.

"You sure can hold a grudge, can't you?" America replied, also now a little annoyed.

"I'm a master at it," England shot back. "And Japan—umm, is there anywhere that I can get my clothes dried?" ("_My_ clothes," America forcibly interjected. "You know what I mean," England swiftly replied.)

"We can take them to the laundry room while America showers," Japan said pointedly, gesturing the named nation towards the appropriate room.

"You better not have taken all the hot water," America told England, walking towards the shower.

"I was only in there for a few minutes. How could I possibly have taken all the hot water?"

"Oh, I think you could find a way," America said vaguely, closing the door behind him, thus precluding any retort.

England sighed. "What am I going to do while we dry these clothes?" he asked Japan, as they started walking towards the laundry room.

"I keep plenty of spare clothes in America's size. You'll at least have something to wear."

"Please tell me that's because you have a relative in his size or something."

"No."

"Drat. I probably don't want to know what he did, do I?"

"Probably not."

"But what are you going to put America in? I doubt you keep stuff in my size."

"I think some of my clothes would fit you more or less, England."

"We should probably have some of that ready for when he's done, just in case. I've never gotten how his media can make such uproar over nudity while he doesn't seem to mind running around naked with France."

"That's probably a good idea," Japan admitted. "We'll do that after we dump these off and get some clothes for you. We should have plenty of time—America likes to take long showers."

"That's a habit he picked up _after_ he declared his independence, by the way," England felt the need to add.

Japan privately thought that had more to do with the advancement of the average person's showering technology beyond ice-cold water in a bucket than with England's parenting skills, but decided not to comment. Partly because he had been warned by several different nations (including America, who was apparently mostly correct for once) that England's parenting skills were best left unmentioned in front of aforesaid nation for health reasons (both England's and the commenter's).

They reached the laundry room.

"Have you seen my cell phone anywhere?" England asked. "I thought I had it in my pocket, but it's not here…just as well, really, seeing as it's not waterproof…" [A/N: THIS NOT DONE YET: England's canonically a bit scatterbrained. Link to that strip (where stranded on an island with America) ?==Not sure I should show this.]

"No, I haven't," Japan replied.

They finished depositing the clothes in the appropriate receptacles.

"Why won't this thing just _stay down_?" England grumbled from somewhere behind Japan.

Japan turned around to see England looking at a mirror and trying to force down that one strand of America's hair that always seemed to be jutting out like the idiot hairs in Japan's mangas. Noticing Japan, England explained.

"Just a few minutes ago, it went flat while it was wet. But the rest of the my…America's? … _the_ hair is _still wet_, and this thing seems to have _blow dried_ itself or something and stubbornly sprung back up, despite my best efforts to get it to stay down. I swear, I'm starting to wonder if it's spring loaded or possessed by a freaking hair demon or whatever it is that's making it spit at the laws of physics and make it impossible for me to look presentable."

"It's just one piece of hair," Japan commented, shooting for a conciliatory tone and immediately hoping that his comment wasn't misinterpreted.

"Yeah, but I think the part is messing itself up too," England muttered, clearly frustrated. "I got it completely straight a moment ago, and it's already zig-zagging back into a mess. Just look at it!"

England tilted his head back a little and Japan looked. He had to admit that the part _had_ become a bit of a mess, though it was certainly much straighter than normal.

"Hair should not have a mind of its own," England worriedly stated, glancing suspiciously at his other appendages in the mirror.

"I suppose we'll have to ask America about it later," Japan replied.

"Pfff. I bet he never even _tries_ to comb it out. Have you ever seen him doing it?"

"No," Japan had to admit. "We should probably go get clothes for both of you now."

"Yes, let's," England said hastily, giving the idiot hair one last tug down. It popped right back up as soon as he'd turned away from the mirror.

They were walking back near the bedroom when they heard a shouted "HA HA! I totally beat your shower time, England!"

_It's really creepy how much he sounds like England_, Japan couldn't help but think. Out loud, he asked "Should we go back and confront him? We haven't got any clothes for either of you yet beyond the towels."

"I don't think we're going to have much of a choice," England replied as the two heard America's pounding gait approaching from behind them. "I wish he'd run more softly," England continued to complain. "He'll probably sprain my ankles or something, the klutz."

America ran into the room as England and Japan exchanged mildly apprehensive glances.

America might have technically gotten out faster, but he obviously wasn't really_ done_. He was still wet (in fact, suds were still visible in a few places) and Japan was a little amazed at how tangled and messy he'd managed to make England's hair. Parts of it looked like they had taken an electrical shock and had yet to decide to start obeying the normal laws of physics again.

England hissed sharply at the horror that had been done to his hair. Japan breathed a brief sigh of relief to see that America was at least wearing a towel, albight a towel that looked like it might fall at any moment due to the running.

"America, _your_ clothes should have had plenty of time to dry, so you should be _wearing them_."

"Eh, the towel's more comfortable anyway," America breezily replied. "More importantly, I beat your shower time hands-down!"

"See?" the oblivious nation crowed triumphantly, thrusting his wrist into England's face. "I'll bet you're regretting making me wear this wristwatch now!"

"You didn't _shower_ with it, did you?" England sarcastically replied.

"Well, maybe a little," America admitted. "Bu-"

"How IRRESPONSABLE can you GET?" England exclaimed ferociously (Japan backed away a little). "Is that the reason my hair looks like it's been through a freaking _hurricane_? We _will _be fixing that, by the way," he added ominously.

"No! It didn't even get wet! Well, maybe a bit moist, but still! I remembered to take it off before the water got really strong. Really!"

"If it wasn't wet already, it certainly is now that you've been running about without drying off," England replied. "And if it wasn't what messed up my hair, I demand to know what DID manage to make this…this…_monstrosity_ of a mess."

"Oh come on, you're exaggerating."

"America, have you even _looked_ at it? There's still no way you managed _this_ just by _showering_. That would make the hair _lie down_, not turn into a charred _bush_."

Privately, Japan had to agree that England was exaggerating. A little. He didn't mention this because, unlike some of the nations, he had a very well-developed sense of self preservation.

"Dude, I did nothing but take a shower!"

England just gaped at him for a second. "Do you have some …_demonic ability_ for making hair go haywire?" he said. "First the part, and this blasted thing," England continued, tugging Nantucket down, "and now MY—"

"What, Nantucket?" America asked offhand.

"...What?"

"You know, this little strand," he said, flicking said strand (which took the opportunity to pop back up). "It represents Nantucket."

"…You probably shouldn't have told me that," England muttered. "Now I'm going to have to spend the rest of my time like this resisting the temptation to go blow that place off the map."

"What did Nantucket ever do to you?"

"It's making it impossible for me to look presentable!"

"If you really hate it that much, why don't you just comb it down?"

"Believe me, I've tried. It won't _stay_ down."

"Oh, come on. It's a bit of hair. You can't have been trying _that_ hard."

"Have you ever actually tried to get it to lie flat?"

"No, 'cause it makes me look _cool_."

"I'm going to go ahead and ignore that last bit-"

"It's true," America insisted. "But seriously, how hard could it be? I bet I could make it stay flat."

"Just try it. 'Seriously,'" England gestured at Nantucket, "see if you can get this blasted thing to behave normally."

"Okay," America replied cheekily, reaching out and tucking the strand under a few other hairs. "That should do it."

"No, it won't," England replied deadpan.

"It's staying down," America reported contrarily.

"Give it a minute," England said. "In the meantime, we're going to fix MY hair."

"…Isn't that what we just did?"

"No. That was a (probably futile) attempt to fix YOUR hair."

"…This bodyswap thing is confusing," America grumbled. England took the opportunity to push him onto the nearest chair and pull out a comb.

Japan saw the imminent disaster and quietly slipped out of the room.

* * *

><p>AN:

It has been implied before in Hetalia canon that England doesn't know how to swim. This would be historically accurate, as many pirates didn't actually know how to swim. America usually wins the swimming at the Olympics, and I imagine that he, personally, would be a very good swimmer, and enjoy doing it for fun. So it's not hard for me to imagine that he tried to drag England to some water park, only for England to eventually end up admitting to this. It's also not hard to imagine America completely forgetting about it, as it's not exactly something I imagine England would want to talk about.

However, it's been a while, and I haven't watched all of the anime and don't have any experience with Gakuen Hetalia. If anyone wants to cite something at me, feel free!

Also, Japan finding out about the swap this way has been part of planned continuity for a LONG time. So to all those people who guessed that Japan would figure it out: Congrats! You're right!

I also need to bestow credit on RasalynnLynx for the awesome idea of England trying to get Nantucket to behave. It took me _18 chapters_ to get it in, but get it in I did!

On the subject of jokes I've been trying to include for forever—England's crack about America being dense both literally and figuratively is one of them. I've been trying to get that in since, like…chapter 3 or something. Finally!

Now it's linky time, as there were a few references that I think you will find funny:

America in Hetalia seems relatively casual about nudity—in one early Christmas Bloodbath (I think—it might have been April Fools, it was the one where France took over the site) France showed up to try and strip America, only for America to ask him "What took you so long?" having already removed most of his clothes. (France was not happy.)

However, people have rightly noted that the American media actually tends to be a bit more stringent about nudity than many of the European cultures, as hilariously noted here in Scandinavia and the World: satwcom m/ anything- but-that (remove spaces. However, I must point out that Satw is considerably dirtier than Hetalia—there is swearing in that strip.)

Tvtropes article on 'idiot hairs:' tvtrop /pm wiki/ pmw / Main/Idi otHair

Finally: Hair demons might not be real, but hair fairies _totally are:_ ?date= 2011-07-26

So yah. Reviews are love!


	25. A Hairy Situation 2

Sorry for how long this took (though it's not technically late!). I've been tied up with all the end of the school year madness (you know…because the teacher didn't plan well enough, resulting in them cramming way too much into the last nine weeks. Or because of all the events and awards ceremonies, or the absolutely zany schedules that the combination of AP tests, TAKS and the EOC create… ), and I've also been working on Jungle (and, to my chagrin, neglecting this fic somewhat as a consequence).

Thus, this chapter is short. Enjoy it as you will.

* * *

><p><em>Where'd he get that comb from?<em> America wondered.

"Hey, wait a minute," he said, "You're not really planning on combing my…your…THE hair out like back when I was your colony or anything, are you?"

England replied by starting to tug the comb through said hair.

"Hey! Stop that!" America protested, squirming the best he could under England's grip.

"Stay still and this'll go faster," England replied tersely, yanking the comb through a bit harshly.

"Oww!" America exclaimed. "Ow! Seriously, stop it!"

"It's just a bit of hair, America. You've been literally shot through the stomach before. How much can it hurt?"

"A LOT! That was in my body, and I was way tougher!"

"You know, I'm not that weak," England muttered. Still, he slowed down. A little.

"Look, I'm not a kid! I can do my own hair! Your hair is normally really messy, anyway!" America shouted, frustrated.

"A, you act enough like a kid to deserve to be treated as one. B, you just proved that you don't normally do your own hair and you forfeited the right to try when you came out like this. C, while a bit messy, I maintain at least some degree of order in my hair, which this does _not_." England punctuated the last statement with a harsh jerk. America winced and tried again to escape. It didn't work.

_Okay, that was a fail. How am I going to get out of this?_ America asked himself. The recurring yanks spurred him to develop a plan B pretty quickly.

"**JAPAANNNNNNNNN! HEEELLLLLLP!**" America hollered.

* * *

><p><em>Oh, lovely,<em> England thought unenthusiastically. _Hopefully Japan won't actually-_

Japan nervously poked his head back into the room.

"We're doing just fine," England assured him, teeth gritted.

"NO, WE'RE NOT!" America shrieked.

"Perhaps you could be a bit more gentle, England," Japan cautiously suggested.

"No. He's going to protest like this however harshly I pull and this way it'll be done faster. If you'd like to accelerate that process, I'd greatly appreciate either some sort of conditioner that will make this smoother or some help in restraining America."

"and **I** would 'greatly appreciate' some help ESCAPING!"

"America," Japan began regretfully, "I-"

"Pleeeaaase?" America begged.

"Man up, America," England interrupted. "And it would be nice if you would think about the situation for a second. I doubt that Japan is strong enough to actually stop me, so any intervention would only prolong the time it takes to finish this. He's clearly smart enough to realize this, and I've explained it to you, so you should stop putting him in such a painful situation by trying to demand the impossible and just sit still. If you'd just cooperate, I'd be almost done."

"Man up? I'm sitting here getting my hair combed like a kid!"

"You've already communicated the fact that you don't like that, which is the most you could possibly do to stop it. Any further struggle is just drawing more attention to your humiliation and making it last longer. Tolerating small injustices without throwing a fit is both part of being a mature individual (not that I really expect that from you, you immature twit, but I feel obliged to at least try to improve that) and one of the best ways to get them to stop, as people are unlikely to further pursue them if they were just doing it to get a reaction," England lectured.

America was silent for a few seconds, to England's surprise. He knew better than to hope that America would actually learn from what he'd been told, but he allowed himself to be cautiously optimistic that America _had_ actually _listened_, which was an improvement.

"Japan," America said completely seriously, "As an alternative to helping me escape, could you write that down somewhere?"

To say England was stunned was a bit of an understatement. If America had been paying attention and hadn't stopped squirming, he probably could've freed himself.

"…What? Why?" Japan asked, surprised.

England prepared himself for disappointment.

"Because I think it might come in handy," America grinned malevolently, "and I know I'll forget it if it's not written down."

…_What the heck does he mean by that?_ England thought, confused and somewhat apprehensive. He decided to finish the idiot's hair and talk to him about it later.

Japan went to fetch a piece of paper. He was a bit worried about America's foreboding proclamation, but mostly just felt relieved by the less impossible request and the seemingly miraculous turnabout in America's approach to the conflict.

Japan wasn't the only one who appreciated America's sudden cooperation. True to his word, England finished pretty quickly.

"See?" England said, holding up a mirror. "Much improved."

"I don't see any difference."

"Ug, fine. I wasn't doing it for you anyway."

"Obviously."

"I think you two should get some sleep," Japan decided to interject.

"You're probably right, Japan," England replied.

"Yeah, that sounds good," America agreed.

"I believe you mentioned a guest room…?"

"Yes, this way," Japan led.

* * *

><p>AN

Honestly don't have much to say about this one that isn't pointless or a spoiler.

…Must get sleep…

ZZZzzz


	26. England sets a dangerous precedent

Well, it looks like I'm working my way back into releasing these chapters at the start of the month. Yay!

Then again, the summer schedule (1 chapter per week) is coming pretty soon, at which point that will be a non-issue. If I can manage the summer schedule, that is. I've been signed up for DC US History (local equivalent of an AP class) summer school, and from what I've heard, it's pretty demanding.

On the plus side, the subject matter ought to be providing plenty of plotbunnies.

jamie: Thank you! Don't worry, I intend to continue.

At this point, I really think that I've done the disclaimer enough times. That said: this doesn't belong to me yadda yadda yadda.

Enjoy!

* * *

><p>The guest room had one bed in it. It was a large one, but it was still only <em>one<em> bed.

_Okay,_ Japan told himself firmly, _we're just going to figure out who has had less sleep and whoever that is gets the bed. I'm _not_ going to allow any more argument._

He didn't get the chance to endure even a bit of argument. England immediately sat down on one side of the bed and almost instantly realized just how tired he actually was. Completely forgetting the others, he pulled a blanket over himself, pitched the towel he was still wearing to the side, and was asleep in minutes.

"…Wow. He really was tired," America commented, plopping down on the other side of the bed.

"We-weren't you going to sleep on the couch?" Japan stuttered.

"No, I said _England_ could crash on the couch, but he didn't, and seriously, do you really want to move him again?"

"No, but…you're just going to sleep in the bed _with him?_"

"Hey, I don't want to sleep on the couch either. I mean, _he's _already proved that he can actually sleep on it…"

"You should at least get some clothes," Japan suggested, still bewildered. "I think I have some that might fit."

"Naaah, I'll be fine," America remarked. "I've still got the towel."

"Aahh…are you sure? I'm fairly certain that towel will come off in the night…"

"It's done a pretty good job so far, hasn't it?"

"Yes, but…also…don't you think England might react negatively?"

"…How so?"

"Well, it's not exactly _normal_ to wake up to find a naked person has snuck into your bed…"

"Dude, I still have the towel. Plus, I've had more sleep recently, so I'll probably wake up first anyway."

Japan gave up. "I suppose…if you insist…"

"Okay! Good night, Japan!" America turned over and tucked himself in on the other side of the bed.

Japan left, knowing full well that he'd be facing a headache when England woke up first.

* * *

><p>Of course, it was still early morning for Japan. He went through his normal routine and almost managed to convince himself that the morning simply hadn't happened and that it was going to be a nice, normal day, if with a bit of a late start.<p>

A few hours later, he happened to walk past the guest room and noticed that the lights were on. All illusions of normalcy were shattered. Sighing, he walked in, ready to address whatever nation had woken up. _Though it's somewhat odd that I haven't heard anything…_

Japan walked in. Both nations were still fast asleep, America snoring softly. Japan noticed that America had _also_ managed to flop around to the point where he was in the middle of the bed, one of his arms draped over England, who he had failed to move so much as an inch. Japan couldn't tell whether the towel had stayed on or not since America had stayed mostly under the covers, but it was pretty obvious that there would be problems when the two woke up (the way Japan figured, in THIS position, whichever nation woke up first would wake up the other, since England would probably scream bloody murder and America [who Japan still didn't expect to wake up first] couldn't possibly extract himself from this without waking the other nation up, which he might do on purpose anyway.).

But for the moment, the two were just … sleeping. Peacefully.

Japan just stood there for a few minutes, looking at what was, to him, an incredibly odd image_. I can't remember the last time I've seen them just getting along for more than a minute or two,_ he suddenly realized. _I mean, I'm sure it's happened at some point, but…_

Realizing that this was a rare opportunity, he pulled out his camera and took several (rather cute, in his opinion) shots of the sleeping nations. He'd have to be careful about these, though. They were the sort of pictures that could easily be misinterpreted.

Finally, he turned off the light (_America must have simply not turned it off after I left_) and, once again, left the room.

* * *

><p>For the third time in recent history, England woke up with the sun in his eyes. This time, it wasn't the pale morning sun of dawn (Japan had planned his guest room better than that), but the harsher late-afternoon sunlight, just starting to dim as the sun started descending from its mid-day peak.<p>

Still, he woke up slowly. He realized, once again, that the sun was in his eyes, and his conscious mind dutifully informed him that that was because the last three days of his life had _not_ been a weird dream, but a weird _reality_. It concluded that he should probably _get up_ and go try to _fix this mess_, but England just couldn't bring himself to move. He felt so warm and cozy and peaceful.

Nevertheless, he soon realized that he probably wasn't getting back to sleep, and was a little unnerved by how disappointed that realization made him feel. He opened his eyes and stumbled out of bed.

Or rather, he _tried _to stumble out of bed. Something was wrapped about him pretty tightly. It was about this point that the arms holding him tight registered in his brain and he figured out just why he felt so pleasantly warm. America was curled up around him and was gripping him like a large teddy bear.

And, England soon realized, blushing hard, he was mostly naked.

_Oh great_, he thought. _I'm trapped here in bed_. _With America._ It didn't bother him as much as he thought it would. The bed _was_ cozy. And America was asleep, and therefore not getting on his nerves. If anything, it was rather cute. And maybe a little beyond that, as his rising blush attested, not that he would be admitting anything of the sort.

Nevertheless, he felt like he had to at least _try_ to free himself. He pushed hard on the arms and was surprised at how easily they came apart. _Oh, right_, he remembered, feeling a little foolish, _I'm__ the one with superhuman strength right now_.

America groaned and slowly opened his eyes a slit. C_rap,_ England realized_, _blushing again_, he's waking up and I'm completely_ naked_._

England started frantically hunting around on the ground for the discarded towel and was relieved to find it. _Should I leave? This is bound to be awkward. Then again, HE got in bed with me. I still shouldn't have been sleeping with as little on as I did…_

_Plus, this way I can get ready before him,_ England thought with a bit more competitive fire than could be considered mature. _Just to set a good example,_ he added, quickly justifying the thought to himself.

England left the room.

* * *

><p>AN:

Seriously, can _you _think of any point in the anime/manga/webcomic/whatever in which America and England just have a pleasant conversation? I can't.

As for why Japan (correctly) assumed that England would wake up before America: I imagine that England doesn't normally get as much sleep as he should. I figure that he got into the habit of sleeping light and not much during wars, and eventually not bothering to try and reset his sleep cycle (which is, in general, a difficult thing to do) afterwards, since he's something of a workaholic (see Hetalia bloodbath 2010). This is part of why he's so grumpy and irritable nowadays. But the point is that, thanks to that, even without anything waking him up, he'll probably sleep less than the average person. So he woke up first.


	27. A stubborn door

Glass of H20: Thank you for reviewing! I'm glad it helped/is helping you get through your project. Also, that's really cool/weird. I don't know anyone else who speaks Spanish in their sleep without learning the language. IT MUST BE MAGIC.

I am officially on summer schedule. So far, however, my prospects of free time have not been promising—and I start summer school tomorrow… :(

I'm still going to try and put out a chapter per week. Here's the first one :)

* * *

><p>America woke up, which really annoyed him. He had felt so comfy and warm…<p>

He sat up and quickly noticed that England was already gone. _Huh. I wonder why._

_Hey,_ America further realized as his cognitive functions started coming back online, _that means he didn't chew me out or anything! _

"Told you, Japan," he chuckled, conveniently forgetting that he had been completely wrong about that whole waking up first thing.

America slid out of bed and remembered the towel a few seconds later. He slung it on and started looking for some clothes. Japan had left two sets on a nearby dresser sometime in the night. He grabbed the familiar set and got it halfway on before noticing that it was way too loose and realizing that the other set was probably meant for him. At some point in that train of thought he realized that meant England had probably gone out with just the towel on. He smiled a bit, remembering how England had scolded him for the very same thing just that morning.

"Not so perfect, are you, England?" America commented. He worked himself into the right pair of clothes (to be fair, that was a bit more difficult than it sounded, as they were a bit too small and he was a) in somebody else's body and b) not used to wearing tight clothes anyway.). Then he grabbed the pair meant for England, looking forward to catching the older nation being a hypocrite.

He didn't get the chance, though. England was already in the shower and had locked the door.

_Ah, man!_ America thought, disappointed to hear the shower running and to realize that the door was locked. There was a bit of steam rising through the slit under the door.

_Well,_ America thought mischievously, _if there's THIS much steam, he's probably been in here for a while…._

* * *

><p><strong>BONk.<strong>

"OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWW!" America shrieked. England slipped in the shower and nearly fell.

_And the morning was going so pleasantly, too_, he mentally groaned.

"Come on, I can do this," America huffed somewhere behind the bathroom door.

**B**a-ang. B**A**M. **BONk**. _Is he…trying to kick the door down?_

"Yeeoow! STUPID ANNOYING DOOR! STUPID STUPID STUBBORN DOOR, I'm going to kill you!" _**BAM. **_"Owwww…I need to get some shoes…"

_Yes_, England concluded. _Yes, he is._

**THUD**. "Dude, who builds their bathroom doors to resist _full-on tackles_?" America groaned miserably.

England couldn't stop himself from laughing. He collapsed onto the shower floor, unable to contain the spasms.

America heard and was understandably annoyed. "This isn't funny!"

"You're right. It's not funny, it's hilarious."

"Hmph. See if I ever try to bring you your clothes again."

England froze. On the other side of the door, America started smiling.

"I guess I'll just put 'em back in the room…Gotta keep things in the right spot, huh, England?" America was definitely teasing at this point.

By this point, England was out of the shower, and mentally cussing himself out when he realized that he had indeed forgotten to bring any clothes. "Come on, America," he said desperately. "Just slip them under the crack."

"I dunno, England," America said words dripping with mock concern, "It looks pretty wet under that crack…"

England grabbed the towel and wiped the crack. The instant he took his hand off the towel, America pulled it under the crack.

"Oh, whoopsie! Just trying to help, but now you don't have a towel, either!"

"This is _Japan's_ bathroom, remember? There are plenty of towels in here."

"Oh," America remarked, obviously disappointed. "I could still hide your clothes somewhere if you don't come out and get them."

"Narcissist," England muttered. "Anyway," he added more audibly, "Japan has a whole stash of clothes that fit you, since your frequent immaturity no doubt forces him to keep them for the sake of his sanity. I'll just ask him for another set."

There was silence for a moment. "You could have told me that before I tried to kick the door down."

"How was I to know the reason you were here?" _Also, it was bloody hilarious._

"Why else would I be here?"

"To tease me, or taunt me, or be annoying, or try and get me out of the shower faster, or to try and trick me out of the shower faster, or to embarrass me, or just to _be there_ because you didn't even bother to _think_, like you do to poor Japan all the time…" England recited, growing increasingly bitter with each addition_. It's true_, he sorely told himself. _I'd never have suspected that he was doing this just to be nice_.

After a short pause, America silently slipped England's clothes under the crack. "Well," he then said, sounding a little pained and a little guilty, "have fun with your shower."

England heard the sound of retreating steps.

He put the clothes on the counter, unsure of whether to smile or cry.

* * *

><p>AN :

England got mad at America for staying in the bathroom too long a few chapters back. It's not surprising he wants retribution. However, the execution of said resentment obviously leaves much to be desired.

That said, hope you enjoyed this. I like this little bathroom sequence. What do you think of it? Better or worse than the previous one?

Still trying to decide whether or not I like this site's new format. On one hand, it makes the chapters longer (which looks good), closer to a normal page width (which helps a little with visualizing how a chapter's going to look and such) and displays my avatar pretty prominently (which increases author recognition). On the downside, the avatar and the box at the top is also somewhat visually disturbing: it distracts from the story (The way it's placed and the color and information inherent in the structure draws the eye), taking the reader out of the experience somewhat, (for example, by being extremely vivid (neon colors burning your eye out) or, far more probably, being incongruous and/or irrelevant—just imagine if the writers of SLK had a cute little bunny avatar and you have visualized an extreme example of my problems with this [Seven Little Killers. It is most emphatically not a nice story.]. I can't possibly have an avatar that fits for everything that I write, so changing it isn't going to be effective here) and making the fic feel a bit more…packaged. This effect is encouraged by the fact that that little box at the top is squared with the story instead of in ribbon format which, frankly, is the one thing about this new format that just seems completely visually wrong to me—it's also rather cramped-looking, the chapter navigation bar looks weird just attached to the little packaging stamp box, and I cannot for the life of me see the point of putting the synopsis on every page of the story when its primary purpose is to attract readers to the story, and usually tells you nothing that a reader shouldn't already know. Also, that extra whitespace to the sides is creeping me out. I think I'll get used to that part, though.

Overall, DeviantArt is starting to look pretty attractive, though I'll definitely continue to post here.

(For the record, I do have a DeviantArt account, but I barely use it at all. While I like to draw, my scanner is horrible.)

EDIT: I have since been told that you can change the picture for the story from your avatar to something more appropriate. I'm still annoyed, as no single picture could possibly represent all chapters, (and I don't like the spacing allowed) but I am now far less annoyed. I guess I need to start working on what to do for this story's picture.:) We'll see. Suggestions?…Who actually read that? Maybe I should try and be a website designer. :|


	28. Scrambled eggs and Sushi coming right up

I've decided I like the whitespace. Still not fond of the box at the top, though.

I'd like to apologize in advance for the short chappy this week—the one next week should be pretty long, though.

* * *

><p>Japan, by this point, had started to suspect that someone was up. He just had a hard time believing that the two had gotten up without tearing the house down.<p>

He walked over to the guest room, quietly opened the door, and peeked in.

Both sets of clothes were gone and the two nations were obviously absent. Japan gaped, realizing that the two had both somehow not minded waking up in bed together but had apparently gotten up and started getting ready without fighting at all.

_I guess miracles do happen occasionally,_ Japan thought, more confused than he ever had been since before the swap was revealed_. Perhaps I need to re-evaluate those two's relationship._

America walked in behind him, looking a little upset, to Japan's slight concern. "Oh, hi Japan," he noted, cheer returning to his face. "Oh, yeah, thanks for the clothes. They're a bit tight, though."

"I apologize. I was unsure of England's precise size, and was already taking some of the largest of my clothes."

"Oh, okay. What's for breakfast? I haven't eaten anything in DAYS!" The corners of Japan's mouth turned up a bit as America's familiar appetite manifested. This he knew how to deal with.

"It's almost dinnertime, America, but I'm sure I can find something…"

The two nations walked off to the kitchen, America chatting easily, Japan occasionally responding, in many ways the picture of good friends.

From around the corner, England, who had finished his shower quickly, watched with a bit of melancholy as the two, who obviously knew each other and got on quite well, walked down the hall.

* * *

><p>America stopped short at the kitchen door, frowning.<p>

"What is it, America?" Japan asked.

"I'm creeped out. I remember exactly where to find the stupid _tea_, but I have no idea where the coffee is. I think I'm being influenced by England, which is just weird. And scary. I don't wanna become an old man!"

"Somehow, I doubt that will happen," Japan deadpanned as he watched America's childishly over-the-top theatrics.

America, oblivious to the almost-sarcastic edge, said "Well, that's a relief! Now where's the coffee?"

"It's almost evening, America," Japan replied. "Are you sure it's a good idea for you to consume caffeine this late? You are not going to get over jet-lag that way." _Also, you'd keep me up all night._

America put his hand to his chin and tilted his eyes up, which Japan recognized as his pose for I'm-pretending-to-think-hard-about-this-but-not-really. Japan softly sighed.

America removed the hand and declared "After much deliberation, I have decided I need some coffee!"

"If you insist," Japan replied, reluctantly pulling down a packet.

* * *

><p>AN: Yeah. School…It's a bit difficult to write these, sometimes. I'm doin' it so far, though.

Also? I can totally see America crashing at other peoples' houses and expecting them to feed them. This inspired this snippet of conversation in a ficlet of mine that may or may not ever be released:

It didn't take long after that for talk to turn to unwanted visitors and what to do about them. England was happy to commiserate with Japan's experiences with Korea, and Japan was unfalteringly sympathetic when England described France's various stunts. Of course, they both had plenty of stories about America.

"I'd recommend being more firm with them, but it honestly hasn't worked that well in my case either," England commented. "Still, nobody should expect you to cook them dinner after they've randomly crashed at your house."

"I don't usually mind that much. I've found that America in particular can be much more agreeable when fed."

"That's never worked for me," England noted, doubtful. Japan had the grace to refrain from comment.

Just thought I should share that. :D Oh, England…


	29. Iggy gets a new lovehate relationship

Glass of H20: Thank you! I'm glad to hear it!  
>anonomas russia fan: ...Really?<p>

Tima: Thanks for pointing that out! I can't believe I missed that in the quality check. I mean, even America would probably be ashamed by that sort of geological messup. At least, I HOPE he knows he's not European... (I've changed it to 'Western.')

Hi. I know this is just barely on time. Sorry. Maybe I should try to get a buffer set up.

This chapter is twice as long as the last, though. Enjoy!

* * *

><p>England paused outside the kitchen door. He hadn't thought he was that hungry (he'd gotten some food after he'd left America's house earlier), but something smelled pretty good in there, and his stomach was fervently protesting his original assessment. He decided to take a look before it did anything embarrassing. He didn't much care to be caught hovering outside the kitchen door because his stomach growled.<p>

He opened the door. Japan and America were already inside, the former making an odd combination of a European breakfast and a Japanese dinner, the latter most likely being a nuisance by pestering the former with useless questions.

America turned towards England, smiling normally (well, England still couldn't get used to seeing it on HIS face, but normally for America) despite the earlier bathroom incident. _Lovely,_ England thought, realizing that the target of America's pestering had just shifted to him_. _He resolved to live with it, though._ It's the least I can do for Japan. _

"Hey, England! Guess that means you're out of the shower. Japan's making food. Want anything?"

_Figures that he'd offer when somebody else is cooking_, England couldn't help but think.

"I am a little hungry. Would you mind if I quickly make myself something?"

Japan slid a few more eggs onto the pan and tried to figure out how to politely refuse England's request.

America's response was a lot less subtle and a lot more immediate.

"NO WAY are you cooking! You'll burn the kitchen down or something!" Japan started cooking the eggs, having fully realized that the argument he'd anticipated was now breaking out. On the bright side, he figured he'd be able to make them both some food before they were done. Hopefully.

"For your information, I am completely capable of producing food without inciting unintended combustion!"

"You do not 'produce food,' England. Also, you're talking like something out of an Advanced Chemistry book."

"I can cook, and the results are edible." England said, irritated.

"Only if by edible you mean 'I can shove it in my mouth!' And sometimes not even then!"

"See if I ever cook for you again, you ungrateful whelp!"

"Looking forward to it!"

"This discussion is over," England huffed. "It-"

"Yeah, you're just saying that because you lost."

"Japan," England said, studiously ignoring America's response, "As it's your kitchen and thus _your_ decision, may I please cook something?"

Japan quickly slid the eggs onto two plates. "I've made plenty of eggs, England. In the interest of keeping the peace, why don't you two just split them?"

"Woo! Food!" America exclaimed, happily claiming one of the proffered plates.

England sighed. "Okay, Japan," he replied, taking the other. The two European nations sat down to eat, both attacking the food with surprising voracity. England found he really had been hungry, to his mild surprise.

"The coffee's done, America," Japan observed.

"Great!" the nation said, smiling.

"Hey, wait a minute," England said. "It's nearly dark out! You're not really going to drink coffee this late, are you?"

America replied by pouring himself a cup.

"Oh, for goodness sakes, America! You're going to keep us up all night!" England exclaimed, exasperated by the younger nation's consistent lack of common sense.

America grabbed another cup. "I think Mr. Grouchypants here needs some coffee too," he quipped.

"I most certainly do not, and neither do you!"

"Dude, I'm _America_," said nation said, shocked at England's proclamation. "I NEED COFFEE."

"For one, I'm the one who's physically 'America' right now. And you certainly seem energetic enough."

"Yeah, so you need to have some too."

"Do you even listen to yourself?" England despaired.

"Not when I don't have any coffee, no," America remarked, clearly thinking it a clever return.

England glanced at Japan. "Does that guest room lock?"

"From the inside, yes."

"Do you have any rooms that lock from the outside?"

"Not really."

England looked at him with undeniable pity written all over his face.

America took the opportunity to pour some coffee down England's throat. Amazingly, England managed to push it away without spilling any on himself, though Japan's tablecloth suffered a little.

"How was it?" America asked cheerfully.

England sputtered on the coffee that had been unceremoniously dumped down his throat. "That…that stupid bloody coffee was-

_Surprisingly…refreshing?_

"H-HORRIBLE!" he insisted.

"You have no taste," America grumbled, taking a gulp from his cup. "Though I guess we already knew that…"

"Do not start that again," England warned. For once, America complied, at least partly because he was busy with his coffee.

England looked distrustfully at his own cup, sniffing at it disdainfully. His eyes widened when he recognized the alluring scent that had originally brought him into the kitchen.

_Bloody hell,_ he thought, brain freezing in shock and horror. _I'm America, and I like coffee._

There was no way he was going to admit that, though. No way, not if he wanted any chance of convincing the other nation to give up on the health-depriving beverage, not if America was still gulping down his cup despite the fact that it was probably tasting horrible to him if he had anything like England's taste buds. England looked closer and noted with some satisfaction that America did indeed look a little uncomfortable.

_Still,_ he thought, looking at the cup, _what should I do with this?_

_I shouldn't even have to ask myself that question_, he reminded himself. _I should just throw it out._

The scent of the coffee wafted up to him again, and his arm jolted as he almost took a sip right then, having become aware of a craving he hadn't realized he had. _Fuck._

He looked up nervously, checking to see if anybody had noticed. America was looking straight at him, grinning a bit deviously.

_Oh, hell if I'm going to give you the satisfaction_, England resolved, firmly sliding the cup away from him. Maybe he could get back to it later. He sputtered inside when he realized that he'd thought that seriously. This was too creepy.

"Ready to admit that coffee's good for you?" America teased.

"Absolutely not," England vehemently replied.

Japan sat down with his seafood dinner and skillfully diffused the impending conflict by offering the other two nations toast, which America happily claimed and England somewhat reluctantly took, realizing that, in order to keep up with America's metabolism, he was going to have to eat like, well, America. Of course, the reverse also held true.

"Don't you think you've had enough?" England asked America, disapproval coloring his voice. "I don't have as fast of a metabolism as you do."

"But the jam is so tasty!"

"That is NOT a good reason for eating when you're full!"

"Fine, I'll just finish this one," America said, somewhat morosely. England nearly gaped, amazed that his advice had been followed. He must have been right-the idiot must have been overstuffing himself just for show. _I'm going to wring his neck someday…_

They all finished eating. England stayed where he was, halfway hoping the other two would leave so that he could grab the coffee without being seen, but nobody gave any sign of moving.

"So…what's up, Japan?" America, of course.

"For the most part, there has been little out of the unusual. However, there was a rather sudden appearance of … I believe you call them crop circles?"

"Bah, they proved that it was just a buncha college kids doing those anyway."

"Yes…however, there was an eyewitness to this one's creation, who swears that it just appeared out of thin air. Most are sure it's a hoax, but the place is rather out of the way…"

"Huh. Sounds like you've got a determined prankster. What'd it look like, anyway?"

"That's the oddest part. Apparently, it looks very different from previous crop circles-like some sort of flower. Here, I was given an aerial photograph of it."

America looked, somewhat interested. England looked and promptly choked on thin air. _How did that drawing end up as a crop circle …in…Japan? _He remembered the odd save files.

"Are you okay, England?" Japan enquired, perceptive as always.

"Oh yes, yes, I'm fine, just thinking about some things I haven't been able to attend to." _Crop circles are made with PHOTOSHOP? …What the hell._

"Ah. Work?"

"Yes, it can be quite burdening at times, though I think I'll be fine." England said seriously. _I'm totally going to scrawl my flag all over France's place next time I stay over at America's. _

There was another momentary lull in the conversation. England fantasized about other possibilities, a slight smirk the only hint that he was mentally drawing humiliating pictures all over French agriculture.

"You never did tell me how this all got started," Japan eventually commented.

England took one look at America's face and knew that what was about to come out of his mouth was both inane and lengthy. He sighed.

_So much for the coffee._

* * *

><p>AN:

Because just because he looks all serious and proper doesn't mean England isn't thinking elsewise (For example, he's reading porn in the first published chapter of the manga. I wish I could say we know this because France called him on it, but he didn't see it.). I find the potential contradiction amusing.

I also like a lot of the scenes in this chapter. What's your favorite part?

Oh, and by the way, the title of the chapter is referring to the coffee. XD

Also, I used 'Iggy' because using England's full name would have caused the title to exceed the character limit for chapter titles (Well, the first word of his full name. I imagine his FULL name wouldn't even fit into the character limit on its own. 'The United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland' is quite the mouthful.

…and you may interpret the 'new' part however you wish.


	30. A Somewhat Inaccurate Recap

Okay, I'm late. I'm sorry. Summer school was tough these two weeks. That, and the combination of low reader response and lots of e-mails from other sources meant I didn't have a reminder sitting at the top of my inbox.

Excuses made, I do have a bit of reconciliation. For one, this chapter is longer than average.

Secondly, I'm going to go back and re-update the previous chapters—I read back through this story sometimes, and when I spot mistakes that got past me the first time, I fix them in my script, but rarely go to the trouble of reloading the chapter. This is mostly going to be quality stuff like spelling, grammar, though it may include a little bit of tweaking to make the plot a bit smoother or funnier and such. I'll also make sure that all the chapters have the lines in them (When I upload, takes them out and I have to redo them manually. I'm probably going to use some other sort of section header for my next fic). This likely won't all be done today, but if you feel like re-reading Bodyswap, next week will probably be a good time.

That said, on with the story. The previous chapter, this one, and at least part of the next one are all part of one large conversation, and are all in England's POV. Just a note.

EDIT: Chappie replacements are now done! It was exhausting, so I actually didn't manage to fix all of the author's notes (I figured out that the links I have been providing often weren't working, despite my best efforts to get to take them.). That's going to have to be a project for another time—I think, in total, it took me a little upward of four hours to get everything set up and replaced. That was WAY more than I thought it would take and has resulted in some major organizational changes.

Enjoy!

* * *

><p>"You never did tell me how this all got started," Japan eventually commented.<p>

"We don't really know," America quickly answered, eager to get back into the conversation. "We just sorta woke up like this a few days back. It was like, the freakiest day of my life, except maybe for Christmas 2010. And that time England turned my place into a hau—that one time, you know, and…well, it was definitely up there. I mean, I got woken up by a unicorn _licking my face off_ in this old man's body and spent the rest of the morning getting _chased by ghosts and fairies, _not that I was scared or anything_. _And then _England tried to cook me lunch_." The last was said with a level of dreadful horror that put his previous tone to shame.

England decided to protest the inaccuracies. "I am _not _an old man, you were _screaming your head off in fear _of those fai-"

"No I wasn't! Your memory is going bad, old man."

"_No_, it isn't. If anything, yours seems to have a few holes. I note you seem to have forgotten sprinting straight into a tree," England added wickedly.

"Dude, it's not my fault you can't jump for crap! And you were chasing me!"

"You were looking _straight at it_. And you had just ruined one of my favorite outfits."

"Hey, I wouldn't have been able to escape out the window anyway if you hadn't broken it!"

"It sounds like you had …quite an interesting experience," Japan observed.

"Yeah, and that was just that morning! You see, then France came over, and England didn't want him to know and dragged me out of there, literally, which was pretty mean of him, and so we did the logical thing and ended up going over to my place to play videogames, which was cool 'cause I beat England at like, everything."

"Only because you cheated. You told me those games were new, and you obviously had practice. And I came close a few times."

"Stop calling me a liar! Seriously, ask Japan about the titles. He'd back me up."

England rattled off what he remembered of the games, which wasn't much. Japan confirmed that yes, they were recent titles.

"See? See?" America prodded, adding a physical jab to the verbal ones.

"Yes, I see," England said, annoyed. "Stop poking me, you immature brat."

"Even if they were new, America still has a lot of experience with similar genres," Japan explained. "I'm surprised you even came close on any of these. That's really very good for someone who's just starting."

"Thanks…?" England replied, trying to decide if that was something he should be proud of or not.

"Hmmp. He just had beginners luck," America sulked. "Anyway, what were we talking about? Oh yeah, about what we've been up to! So then we woke up the next morning, and we went to England's house—"

"I think that's really enough," England said hurriedly, not wishing to revisit his temporary stint as a chibi shorter than America's knee. Or any of the other undignified things that had happened to him after that point. "Japan gets the point: the last few days have been insane."

"They do sound rather chaotic," Japan agreed.

"Aah, but I was just getting to the fun part! See—"

"America, we really have more pressing issues," England tried.

"Oh yeah. Like, why can't you swim? Weren't you, like, a pirate back in the 600's?"

"The 600's were in the early medieval ages, America."

"…So?"

England looked at Japan with a long-suffering expression.

"Please tell me you have some idea for teaching him world history? I think I've given up."

Japan didn't reply. _Shit._

America interjected. "Okay, I got the time period wrong. So what? You were a pirate at some point, weren't you?

"_Privateer_."

"Same thing, right? That's a little cool, you know—Oh man, I just realized! Did you and Japan start Pirate vs. Ninja?"

"Y-What? No."

"Really?"

"Yes!"

"You DID!"

"What? No! I was saying 'yes' to 'I didn't'!"

"Are you suuuure?"

"Yes, I'm SURE."

"Boo."

"You are so _overwhelmingly_ mature."

"Glad you think so!"

"Grr—"

"But anyway, you were a pirate, why can't you swim?"

"I just never really learned. Swimming pools weren't that common back when I was a kid! Finally, this is NOT what I meant when I spoke of important issues."

"You nearly _strangled _me over it. And it actually hurt, England."

"Yes, it is important, but not right now! We can't go to a world meeting like this, and we've got one coming up in just a day or two!"

"Why not?"

England looked at America like he'd gone nuts.

"I'm _waiting_ here…"

"Can you imagine all the explaining we'd have to do? We aren't even sure how this happened! And they'd mock us mercilessly. We'd likely derail the whole thing, as well." There was one much darker reason, but one he didn't want to bring up if he didn't have to.

"So, yeah. Typical. We should have just told everyone already. Maybe someone even knows what's going on!"

"WHAT? How do you not care about any of that?"

"Oh come on! We don't have to explain anything. It's not like they can MAKE us. We just say 'we don't know!' and leave it at that. And the rest of that is just like I said: typical."

"America, they might not be able to physically compel us, but they can be very persistent, and likely won't focus on the meeting! Germany would be furious." England knew that America would embarrass him at some point if they did this.

"How is that different from any other meeting?"

"America, some of us do take these things seriously, and you don't realize how much crap you don't have to put up with because you're a superpower they don't want to tick off! It'll be a lot worse than you expect!"

America paused. "I guess…" he said, trailing off.

England looked at him, surprised. If anything, he'd say America almost sounded bitter.

He glanced back at Japan, who didn't seem surprised at all. Then again, Japan was being typically stoic. Still, England thought he could read Japan fairly well at this point.

"Soooo…" America drawled. "Battle plans, people."

"For what?" Japan asked seriously. "Fixing the swap?"

"Yep," America replied, grimacing slightly. _Maybe he's remembering the coffee_, England speculated. _It looks like might be able to get him to actually co-operate for once._

"What do you have in mind?" Japan asked neutrally. England wanted to facepalm. _Honestly, Japan…It's AMERICA. Wrong person to address that question to!_

"I'll make some sweet sci-fi awesomeness, maybe get Tony to help—"

"I'd really rather not involve that alien," England hurriedly interrupted. He had absolutely no intention of letting himself be hooked up to a machine that that little bastard had messed with.

"Dude, why? Tony's really cool with this sort of thing! He helps me all the time—"

"If my considerable experience with the results of such projects is anything to go by, that is a very good reason NOT to involve him."

"Oh, come on! We've come up with some really cool stuff! The Vela incident was just a fluke!"

"The what?"

"Look, it's not important. Point is, I trust Tony—"

"I DON'T."

"Why? He's really nice."

"Do you even listen to him? He spouts curse words every other second!"

"Well, that makes two of my friends, then," America wickedly replied, gesturing at England.

England resisted the impulse to swear at him, opting instead to take his frustration out on the table.

"Look," he proclaimed, slamming his fist down, "WE ARE NOT INVOLVING THAT BLOODY ALIEN."

The table cracked and split in two.

* * *

><p>AN:

Little cliffhanger, huh?

That said, there's a lot to say about this chapter. First off, America was off by about a thousand years on England's pirating days—it should be in the 1600's (if I remember correctly).

Also, I feel the need to note that in my headcanon, at least, England is lying about why he can't swim. The following part of a PM was written in response to salenastarzz's review to the chapter A Hairy Situation:

Though Gakuen Hetalia is of questionable canon anyway, and I ascribe to the essence of the explanation Behind the Mask gave for England's inability to swim-one of his siblings nearly drowned him when he was little, and the reason he can't swim has a lot more to do with psychological scarring then actual inability. So the school-kid version of himself, without his history, might know how to swim. That's how I'd get around that *shrug.* Maybe I should post that explanation.

It is now posted. Yes.

I also feel the need to note that England apparently knew what Pirates vs. Ninjas _was_ (or he took a guess based on the partially self-explanatory title, which is more likely but less fun to write about), suggesting that he might actually have started it—Bri Nara has a funny ficlet written to that effect (Bri Nara is on my Favorite Authors list) or he's a bit more internet savvy than he acts (explaining twitter from hetaween). I don't think I'm going to go with that third solution, though.

If you know what the Vela incident is, I'm proud of you. I really wanted to use the Tunguska Event (which is better known), but that was before Roswell. For those of you who don't know what the Vela incident is and want to find out, google "List of unexplained explosion events." Then again, that alone ought to give you a pretty good idea.

Speaking of unexplained explosion events—if you've heard of one, or any other interesting story, I'd love to hear it!

Oh, and Japan's furniture is sure taking a beating, isn't it? Spoiler: This is not the last thing of Japan's that will be broken in this fic. By a long shot.


	31. An Officially Ridiculous Argument ¬e

EDIT: I have bad news. I was vaguely aware that I was going to get my wisdom teeth taken out at some point with summer, but this is actually happening tomorrow, Wednsday the 18th. This means that for three-seven days after it, all I'm going to want to do is sleep. My parents have also decided to leave early for our trip so that we can get some work done on our house...unfortunately, this means that I have really no idea when I'm next going to have access to internet. This could mean missing a lot of updates, and frankly, there isn't really anything I can do about that except try and write more of the story while I'm on vacation so I have something extra to give you guys when I get back. So...until next time, thank you all for sticking with this story!

Hi everyone! There were a lot of reviews last time, thank you, everyone!

Don't think I have much else to say here, actually. Enjoy!

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-..-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Japan and America stared at him. There was a very audible SMASH as one of Japan's coffee cups shattered on the floor for the second time in the immediate past. Coffee spilled all over England's pant leg. _Ah, damn,_ England thought wistfully.

"Okay," America said, clearly a bit spooked, "That wasn't intentional, right?"

England got his voice back at that. "No! It really wasn't! I'm sorry, Japan—"

"You know, even I manage not to split the_ table_," America interrupted. "You are going to have to learn to tolerate some dissent," he added, regaining his normal grin and wagging a finger patronizingly at England.

England knew he'd fed America that exact line at several points. It didn't stop him from getting mad at America for returning it, though.

"And I'm the _only one_ having trouble adjusting to someone else's body? _You ran straight into a tree!_"

"That was once, dude. This is, like, the fourth thing you've broken."

"NO, it's NOT! There was the window and this, and that was it!"

"My bathroom door…?" America skeptically added.

"You broke his bathroom door?" Japan softly asked.

"While I was still in it," America commented peevishly. "Dude has _no_ respect for private time."

"There were extenuating circumstances!" England screeched when Japan looked at him oddly.

"And _you_," England said sharply, gesturing at America, "have broken _far_ more things than I have, and _without_ the excuse of having to get used to being a superpower! I still don't know what the victim of that crash I could hear from the attic was, but you're paying for it when I find out!"

"That was just me and a wall," America quickly (and somewhat suspiciously) affirmed. "Yup. It was pretty hard. Didn't even get a dent. No need to go looking for hidden shards of ceramics. Definitely not."

_America's a horrible liar sometimes_, England thought, somewhat amused. America continued.

"So yeah, I didn't break anything there, and you've broken more stuff, too."

"No, I haven't! Name one."

"Uh, various parts of me? Such as my ears? That radio was way too loud."

"You deserved that."

"Did not. Who the heck wants to listen to _elevator music_ the whole car ride over the Atlantic?"

"Wait," Japan interjected, confused as heck, "_Car ride over the Atlantic?_" Neither of the bickering nations noticed his bewilderment.

"THAT WAS NOT ELEVATOR MUSIC!" England roared.

"Just what sort of elevators have you been hanging out in?"

"Appropriate ones!"

"Wait, seriously? What sort of idiot hangs out in elevators?"

"Okay," Japan muttered under his breath, "this has officially turned into a ridiculous argument."

"You, for one example! I'm still trying to get someone to clean up all the mess you and that ex-country made with your '37 things to do on an elevator' list!"

"Heh, that was great," America chuckled, reminiscing.

"No, it WASN'T! It was extremely juvenile, but that's about it!"

"'Extremely juvenile' is often synonymous with 'awesome,'" America stated.

"Only if you think making everybody think you've lost your marbles is 'awesome!'"

Japan quietly consigned himself to his fate.

"They thought _I_ was nuts? _You_ were the one who tried to exorcise me!"

England flushed. "What you were doing was actually very similar to standard symptoms of demonic possession!"

"Uh-huh," America said.

"Honestly!"

"You've actually been to hell?"

"Hell no! I'd be dead! How did you reach _that _conclusion?"

"Well, you've actually met a demon?" America clearly didn't believe it.

"I've met one possessing a human host, and I have no desire to see it twice!"

"Okay, dude, I forgot whichever weird religion you are now, but you really need to stop taking it so seriously."

"_I _have an odd religion? Who here was founded by religious nuts?"

"That was two hundred years ago!"

Japan started picking up the coffee cup and trying to figure out just what, if anything, he was going to do about the two nations who were behaving far too normally for Japan's taste.

Fortunately, England noticed his gesture at this point. "Here, let me help you with that. I'm really sorry about the table and the cup. I'm not sure what happened, exactly..."

America quickly started helping too, though England guessed that it was more out of annoyance that the two were effectively ignoring him than out of any real philanthropy.

He did make himself useful, though. There wasn't any evidence of a coffee stain by the time he was finished with the tile.

_I guess he has a lot of experience there_, England thought, amused.

"Maybe we should leave the kitchen," America suggested. "We could sit on the couch, where there's less breakable stuff. Unless England tears the pillows apart or something."

"The one I was deposited on?"

"Yeah."

"The one that has the video game console in the same room?" England was pretty sure he had hit on the real reason for America's suggestion.

"Hey, yeah! We should play! We might even get some ideas!"

…_Or I might have just given it to him. Damn._

"I have no objection," Japan stated.

England was going to protest the entire move, then remembered that they no longer had a table to sit at. Because of him. That smarted a bit.

"I have no problem with relocating our discussion, but I'm not wasting any time on games. Any ideas we were to get from them would likely be utterly idiotic and completely unusable."

"Oh, come on. I do this all the time, when I'm coming up with a plan. I've gotten some of my best ideas from videogames!"

"…That explains _**so much**_. And I don't mean that in a good way, America."

"…Huh? How? The creative genius just revealed a source of his inspiration to you! Be grateful!"

"If you ever call yourself a 'creative genius' again, I'll throttle you."

"The room is this way," Japan indicated. England caught the cue to stop arguing and followed him out of the room.

"Hey!" America ran up to catch them. "Don't just leave without me!"

"I had no such intention," Japan replied.

"Oh. Well, good. Hey, we should play—"

"We aren't playing anything, America," England replied. "I thought we already went over that."

"Umm, yeah. So we need to decide the game."

"Did you pay any attention to my first sentence there?"

"…There was more than one sentence?"

England glared at him. America seemed unfazed. He turned to Japan.

"Ooh, I know! We should play one of those horror games of yours. Especially if it has zombies! Somet—"

"AGAIN, this time loud enough that you should hear it: WE AREN'T PLAYING ANYTHING."

"Well then…what ARE we doing?"

"We're moving to the couch, like you suggested."

"…That was me? Oh yeah. I mean, someone had to say it since we didn't have a _table_ anymore…" The last bit definitely had a teasing edge.

England tried to think of something to say to that, and ended up just glaring at him again. America whistled and looked away, looking far too smug for England's tastes.

Japan sighed and made plans for buying a new couch.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-..-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

A/N:

These two really have a spectacular ability for derailing discussions, don't they?

That said, I'm now going to make public another interesting response to a review (thank you, chattie98!) that occurred some time ago:

Review: I like this fanfic a lot, you're really great at writing and placing the reader in the story (do you know what I mean by that? I can't seem to find the correct words) but, I'm confused about one thing: Did they DRIVE to England... Keep up the good job!

My response: Yes, yes they did. America's car is awesome like that.

…Although if I wanted to do this in a serious fic, I'd probably explain it as being part of the nation's teleport-like ability (though in my opinion, this wouldn't actually fit—and I'll explain my theories on this some other time.).

Next up, if you've ever seen the '37 things to do in an elevator' list on someone's profile, you have an idea of what America and Prussia did. However, I actually am canonizing someone else's fic—it's hilarious, and you can find it on my favorites list (it's appropriately titled '37 things to do in an elevator.' Yes, England does try to exorcise America at one point, and that isn't the funniest part.).

Now taking bets on the next bit of property damage. Pillows? Couch? Walls? Something else? All of the above? Something that isn't Japan's? Reviews appreciated!

I'm starting to feel bad for Japan. I need to have something good happen to him by the end of this fic.


	32. Explosive Argumentation

Guest: Thanks for reviewing! I'm glad the conversation feels realistic to you. You can read down below to see the fate of the game console. I too, now want to do something for Japan…and I, too, haven't thought of anything yet.

Well, I recovered from the surgery pretty quickly. I still can't do strenuous activity and stuff like that, but otherwise it's looking good. The trip, however, is still a problem. I managed to write out a fairly long chapter this time, but I'm not sure how things are going to work for the next several chapters. I'm hoping to be able to write out several and store them to this site so that I can post them from my phone, but I'm actually supposed to be doing homework right now so I'm not sure if that'll be possible (and if it is, they'll probably be short chapters.). Note that this also means that (at least after this chapter) reviews will probably be harder to reply to.

That said…enjoy!

* * *

><p>"Woot!" America emoted, plopping down onto the fluffy couch. England and Japan followed in a less enthusiastic manner.<p>

America scanned the consoles. _I wonder if Jap-_

"For the third time: we're not playing videogames," England flatly commanded, having followed America's gaze.

America tried to stare him down. It didn't work too well. In the background, Japan removed the more fragile pillows from the couch.

He looked at the two Western nations and sighed under his breath. Given how absurdly stubborn both of them could be, he couldn't help but expect this to end badly.

Japan was saved from the difficulty of breaking them up by Nantucket's timely decision to pop back up again, prompting a frustrated curse from England and a hearty laugh from America.

"I told you this rotten little hair wouldn't stay down," England grumbled, trying (without much luck) to get it to return to its previous position.

"Score 1 Nantucket!" America cheered. "My hair is awesome."

England turned to him, a little red in the face. "You're CHEERING for it?"

"Well, yeah," America replied. "It's cool. And it's funny seeing a tiny piece of hair running you ragged."

"You bloody obtuse nitwit," England snapped.

"Hey, I'm not the one who spent the last several minutes trying—and failing—to subdue a little strand of hair."

"I'll note that you didn't manage to subdue it either!"

"I sure got a lot closer than you did."

"Does this have anything to do with plans for the swap?" Japan finally enquired.

"Well, yeah," America quickly replied, then spent a few seconds trying to justify his answer. "'Cause uh…England doesn't have to worry about his hair at all? I mean, why are you so annoyed by this anyway?"

"It's CREEPY. It's trying to force me to have your pitiful lack of hygiene and it's SUCCEEDING."

"It's taking care of itself for you! I sure wish yours would do that too. Then I wouldn't have had to sit through your hissy fit!"

"_Hissy fit?"_ England replied, a dangerous edge to his voice.

"What else would you call it?"

"A noble attempt to introduce you to the fundamentals of hair care?"

"Hair care is for girls."

"IT IS NOT!"

"Yeah…give me one example of a dude who puts creams in his hair."

"Everyone!"

America gestured at himself. "Don't think so."

"What do you call shampoo?"

"That's different. I mean, like, combing your hair out 100 times a day with gel or whatever that saying is."

"France?" England volunteered.

"Okay, maybe, but he's _France_."

"Every gangster with a mohawk ever?"

America blinked.

"…Since when have you been into gangster fashions?"

"I'm NOT! That doesn't mean I haven't ever seen one."

"Yeah, but…uh…"

"But nothing. You simply have no grasp of proper hygiene."

…_Okay, fail. Time to change the topic and forget this ever happened._

"What were we talking about again anyway?"

"How can you have forgotten this already? You're staring right at the reason!" England waved a hand in front of America's face.

"What, the fuchsia pillows?" America replied, deliberately ignoring England's illustration and consequent insult. "And hey, where's Japan?"

"I'm right here, America," Japan replied from where he was standing behind the couch.

"Sit down, bro! Okay, here's what we should do. England'll go do whatever he's doing to try and fix this, and meanwhile, we can make preparations for the meeting just in case that messes up. I'll go to my house and get out the UK cosplay outfi—"

"**HELL NO!** Are you nuts?"

Japan, meanwhile, was once again confused.

"Uh, no? I'm supposed to try and fool people into thinking I'm you, right? It has a teacup and everything!"

"I am NOTHING like that costume implies!"

"_Nothing?_ Dude, I've lost count of the number of times I've seen you running around nearly nak-"

"You are NOT wearing that! You already ARE me physically, it's not going to help!"

"Says who?"

"Everyone with any common sense! Japan, you agree with me, right?"

"Umm…" Japan stalled. "I haven't ever seen this outfit…"

"See?" America insisted. "He agrees it could help!"

"No, he's just trying not to insult your intelligence by giving a circuitous answer!"

"How would you know? I've known Japan way longer than you!"

"And I, being an intelligent and insightful person, know him much _better _than you! But that's irrelevant. You are not wearing that costume. It's patently ridiculous."

"_Exactly!_ Wow, I'm glad we're all finally on the same page here."

There was a brief pause as England decided that America's latest insult was one too many.

…_Are his eyes turning RED? Nah, that's just the light._

England lunged for America, who quickly raised a pillow to shield himself. It didn't last long. Japan hurriedly backed himself against the wall.

America, who at this point realized that he was in big trouble, kneed England in the groin and wriggled out from underneath him in the small pause that followed. He quickly collected a small armory of pillows and other assorted items.

Needless to say, America's choice of target did not help in pacifying England. At all. If anything, it made things much worse.

"You are in for a world of pain for that," England snarled, eyes narrowed.

"Bring it," America pronounced far more confidently than he felt. Somehow, England looked far more intimidating in the body of a superpower.

England brought it. In seconds, there were feathers and couch stuffing flying everywhere.

A minute or so later, blood joined the list of flying items, and Japan decided that he had to risk doing something.

He closed the doors to the room and shut off the lights.

"_What the f—_OOW—"

"TURN THE LIGHTS BACK ON SO I CAN FINISH MURDERING THIS BRA- #$%^#& it, where did you go? America, you coward!"

"Over here!" America taunted from the far end of the room. There was a muffled sound of someone lunging in a general direction and running smack into the couch, followed by a very much unmuffled curse, America's laugh, and the sound of footsteps as the younger nation relocated.

There was a peculiar scraping sound. _Is he…moving the couch?_

"Finding the furniture to your liking, England?" America taunted. "I guess not, since you're redec—WOAH!"

England hadn't just been dragging the couch. America nearly jumped out of his skin when the massive piece of furniture slammed into the wall right next to him with a terrifying THUD.

America fingered the object that had just barely missed him.

There was an enormous dent in the wall, and nasty wooden splinters everywhere.

_Oh man,_ America thought, terrified. _I'm really screwed. He's…he's not trying to hold back at all. If this had hit me—_

He felt something brush against his leg, and before he could move, he was brutally pulled down and pinned, the breath knocked out of him by a hand thumped against his chest.

Hot breath seeped over his face. He struggled to free himself, and couldn't budge an inch in his foe's iron grip.

"Gotcha," England snickered triumphantly.

* * *

><p>AN:

Ho boy. Japan, this would be a good time to bust out those ninja moves, or do _something_, anyway.

That said, going down the chapter in order: I can completely see America's reaction to losing an argument being trying to just forget about it. I know a few people like that.

The UK cosplay outfit is hetalia canon, somewhat—it was a sketch Himaruya did. Hopefully, the following link should work if you take out the spaces (I've gotten so fed up with them not working I'm going to put stars everywhere and see if it works (It did!): h*t*t*p*:*/*/*h*e*t*a*l*I*a*.*l*I*v*e*j*o*u*r*n*a*l*.*c*o*m*/*7*2*4*2*7*5*6*.*h*t*m*l

I hope it's clear how this fight got so nasty. It's really more of an explosion of all the pent-up anxieties and annoyances resulting from having to basically live with each other for the past several days, so there's your fuel and your spark. America kneed England in the groin because he wasn't sure where else he'd actually manage to hurt him a little, but England took it as a sign that the scuffle (I figure it isn't incredibly unusual for them to get into small scuffles) was turning into a real fight. Plus, England doesn't fully realize quite how dangerous he is right now, and America's putting up a brave face with his taunting is just making him madder. So yeah. In reality, I wanted this fight for a couple of storytelling reasons that I'll explain later…but looking back, it really does seem a little inevitable.

Any guesses at how this is going to end up? I'd love to hear them :D

Also, I'm trying to figure out what to do for Japan. If anyone has any ideas, please review!


	33. Bad Memories

Dear Guest: Wait, why do you feel extremely sorry? *a bit confused*

Okay, this is a short chappie.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-..-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"This might hurt just a bit," England whispered sweetly. _For you, anyway. I suspect I'll enjoy this immensely._

England was just about to pummel America in the face when Japan turned the lights back on.

England blinked.

Somehow, the cruel, arrogant, cocky, insulting, belligerent, bloody oblivious teasing tormenting brat he'd been about to impale was gone, replaced by a quivering child who was regarding him with abject terror.

England lowered his hand, shaking a bit himself.

Only once before had he seen America look at him like that. It might not have been the same exact eyes and mouth and eyebrows, but it was impossible for England not to see another face etched over it.

_No. Not like that, not like that time. Not at all!_

He couldn't convince himself.

_One by one is one. One by two is two. One by three is three, don't think about that, just, don't—_

It was too late. England could already feel the bloodied cough brewing in his throat, the first echoes of the painful shakes, the subtle spread of the horrible aching feeling, and all the other nasty things that manifested when he thought too hard about the American Revolution.

England was vaguely aware that Japan had run over and was trying to make sure they were both alright. America had tried to scoot out from underneath him. England sat back, and the younger nation scampered a few steps away from the wall.

"I'm fine," England told Japan. Japan didn't look at all convinced.

"Are you sure?" Japan gently asked.

"I'M FINE!" England shouted, standing up. "Look, I'm going to get a drink and go try and fix this. You two…_do whatever you want!_ Just don't mess anything up!"

He managed to walk to the door. Once he closed it behind him, he started to run.

He succeeded in getting outside before he started coughing too badly.

Everything felt so much worse than it usually did.

_Why? Why the bloody hell does it hurt so much more than usual? Why the hell is this happening to _me_? I'm in America's body and still… _

…_and the way he looked at me…_

He coughed up blood. He haphazardly tore up a bit of vegetation and covered the spot.

_I've got to get out of here before I tear up Japan's lawn_, England thought, somewhat self-depreciatingly. _I'll just stop by that one place and go. I'm not going to get anything done like this anyway…_

He hauled himself to his feet. That was a perk—even if everything seemed to hurt worse than normal, America's body seemed more than capable of keeping going.

_Just one drink_, he reminded himself. _Just to dull the pain a bit._

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-..-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

A/N:

In answer to your questions, England: a) You essentially just relived the worst bit of it. Of course it's going to be worse than normal. b) You're the one who's still this depressed over the American revolution, not America, and it's primarily psychological, since there's little physical reason to collapse at the sound of a word.

This is leading into something that someone requested.

Review question: do you like the -.-.-.-.- thing or the straight lines (see last chapter) better? I'd like to know.


	34. A few hasty decisions

Okay. Wow. You guys must have thought I was dead. In a way, I am-electronically dead, that is. During the whole vacation/home improvement process, my computer was damaged. While this is being worked on, it also makes it nigh-impossible to get chapters up, as it means I have to type them from my smartphone (this is one of the biggest reasons this chapter is so late, the others being massive disorganization, frequent Internet outages, and heavy schoolwork). Until I have my computer back, unfortunately, chapters are probably going to come out at about this same pace-that is, ridiculously slow. I'm also having similar problems with PMs and reviews. I'm really sorry about this, but there isn't much I can do about it.

Just wanted to reassure everyone that this fic has not been abandoned.

Glass of H20: thanks for the review and the feedback on the lines!

Speaking of lines: here's the feedback I've gotten so far:

For the straight, across-the-page lines: 1

For the 'dashed' (-.-.-.) lines: 1

Ambivalent: 1

I also feel the need to note that I'm somewhat biased towards the -.-.-. Lines, because they're much easier to manage and I can put little info bits in them (see below).

This chapter is a much nicer length, and contains much less angst. Hooray!

Unless you like that sort of angst, I guess. Did anyone like that angst (review question!)? Then again, if you like this story, I imagine it isn't probably your favorite thing in the world…oh well, it had to be done to lead into some very funny possibilities, which will mostly start appearing next chapter.

Enjoy!

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-..-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-Rewind slightly-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-..-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Japan and America stared, briefly, at England's retreating back.

"…Did you hurt him badly?" Japan asked America.

"Nope. Just a few bruises and cuts," America replied.

His voice was still a bit shaky. His voice was _shaky_. _No no no. Get it together, dude. _

"I'd have totally left him a few worse ones if I'd had the time, though!" he added. He was relieved to note that he'd managed to get his voice to stop sounding like a wobbly building. _Much better._

"Are _you_ hurt badly?" Japan asked.

"Eh, I'm cool," America replied. "He got me a few times too, but I'm tough!"

Japan decided to make his own assessments.

"Ouch! Come on, Japan, I'm a bit bruised up, but you don't need to turn me into a pincushion! I didn't break anything!"

"Maybe not any _bones_," Japan dryly replied, briefly glancing around the room.

It was coated in a carpet of stuffing and feathers. Tables were overturned, items were scattered, the game system was lying in the floor, blood was splattered in some areas, a pillow was jamming the fan and the couch was protruding from the wall.

Japan returned his gaze to America.

"Heh. Um. England sure can get violent when he's mad, huh?"

Japan softly sighed and got up to get some bandages. America's tree-bark injuries had _just _finished healing…

"…seriously, you'd think he'd have to be drunk to make this big of a—oh NO!" America jumped up, startling Japan. "Didn't he say he was going to get a drink? He didn't head toward the kitchen!"

"Yes, he did say—," Japan managed to reply before America tore out of the room.

_I can't have him getting drunk as me! He'd probably start World War three! _

…_Heh, I'm a poet and didn't know it._

England had left his (America's) car in Japan's garage. The keys weren't in the ignition.

America checked the glove compartment. A bunch of stuff spilled out, including the key.

_Sweet. England's on foot, so I should catch him easily!_

He stuck the key in the ignition, turned on the engine and took off.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-..-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-A little while later-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-..-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Problem with the speed thing was…well…he had absolutely no idea where England might be. America didn't usually come over to Japan's house because he wanted to drink (Video games and simple boredom were more likely causes.). He was somewhat familiar with the general area, but not well enough to know where the bars were.

He rummaged through the mess of stuff that had fallen out of the glove compartment. Gum. Tickets. Empty water bottle. Old gaming system (Hey, that's where it went!). Gloves. Map book (American only, of course.). Some old cell phone. Plastic bag with way-overdue snacks. Old hat. Twilight Sparkle minifigure. He hurriedly stuffed that last one back into the glove compartment.

Key omission: GPS.

He tried driving around a bit more, hoping to spot a blond blue-eyed bringer of drunken havoc. He didn't.

So he didn't know where to go.

He couldn't look it up in a map.

Heroes didn't ask for directions.

…America was starting to get frustrated. It had been nearly half an hour! Even assuming England had had to walk a few miles, he was probably too late.

That thought sent chills up and down America's spine. America getting really drunk was like giving a kid a power tool and telling them to have fun; that is, the landscape was generally unrecognizable by the time either of them calmed down. There was a reason that his bosses persistently ensured his fake ID was under the legal drinking age in the USA. Which was totally unfair, in his opinion. He knew how to restrain himself. Unlike certain Europeans.

Something started ringing. _Amazing grace, how sweet the sound, that saved a wretch like me…_

America grabbed for the phone that had fallen out of the glove compartment. He quickly checked the caller ID and answered it.

"'Sup, Japan?"

"Next time, America, please talk to me before running off. I've been frantically trying to contact you. How did you get this phone, anyway?"

"It was in the glove compartment. So, have you found England?"

"No. I've been trying to contact you."

(Japan had no interest in ending up in a bar fight with a superpower.).

"Well, okay. So…"

Japan sighed. He knew better than to expect America to ask.

A few minutes later, the younger nation had a general idea of where to go.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-..-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.—

A/N:

Way back in chapter 8, Clozzie review-requested drunkenness (which, at the time, I had no idea how to incorporate). Still, I put it in the ideas section. Next chapter, this request will finally be fulfilled! This is also what I was referring to up at the top.

For those who don't know, Twilight Sparkle is a character in MLP:FiM. That is, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic—Twilight is a purple unicorn. I am fully aware that the title alone is capable of setting off gag reflexes, but it's actually a fair bit better than you'd expect, and is very well known on the internet, to the point where older (often male) internet users have exceeded the show's original demographic. So I don't think it's that odd for America to have a minifigure (and be somewhat embarrassed about it, as many people are, at first). However, I feel the need to note that I'd be shocked if Rainbow Dash wasn't his favorite character; in fact, I would have used Dash here except I don't think America would lose that one and for one other reason that I don't feel like mentioning right now that you could probably guess at based on my reticence.

1) Just based on his character, it's not that hard to assume that America doesn't always have the best control over his strength, even when he's sober. He's impulsive, emotive, overly-enthusiastic, often inconsiderate of others (unintentionally or no), and he has a history of trying to help and making things worse. I've seen plenty of fics in which America is said to have slapped someone on the back a little too hard. It's not hard to conclude that he'd be far worse when he was drunk (Not necessarily because he got more violent, but because he got more careless and less coordinated.). This fits in fairly well with his canon physical age of nineteen.

2) Apparently there's some strip or anime episode (that I, unfortunately, don't remember seeing but have seen mentioned in a discussion of physical ages—if someone could point me to it, I'd put up a starred link.) in which America's on a plane back to his house and France stops him from drinking, lending credibility to the assumption that his iD displays his physical age of nineteen: He can get drunk in France's place, but not in his own.

3) I can totally see America being the reason the legal drinking age in the USA is higher than the age one was legally not considered a minor.

4) Nineteen is actually under the legal drinking age in Japan (20), but apparently England didn't get carded. Or maybe he just twisted the bar table a little.

Also, I have yet to meet a male who would ask for directions without prompting. Has anyone else? I'm curious as to whether this is a widespread behavior.


	35. But what will you do with the car?

I FINALLY have my computer back! Updates should be back to once a month. Very sorry to everyone.

(Also, if you've forgotten what this fic is about, I'm doubly sorry.)

Hello, everyone. This chapter is a bit longer than usual, and personally, I like it.

That said, enjoy!

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-..-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

England stared at his half-empty drink.

"Why…the fuck…am I not drunk yet?" he growled.

One drink had become two. Two had become three. And three had become enough to have gotten himself drunk several times over under normal conditions, though that was considering the fact that sake was generally somewhat more potent than Europeans were used to. Maybe he was just getting served crappy sake.

He'd never thought a higher tolerance would _annoy _him before.

_Then again_, England thought grumpily, fingering the glass_, I should have seen this coming. America's so freakin' dense, I bet you could drown a horse in the amount of alcohol it would take to raise his BAC to .08. _

It was probably an exaggeration, but it kept him from thinking about why he was there.

He drained the rest of the glass in front of him and ordered another.

The bartender had just brought it to him when he heard the door bang open and a familiar voice shout:

"PEOPLE! I'm looking for a dude! Blue-eyed, blond-haired, wearing glasses, handsome?"

_You vain git…_

The bartender gestured in his direction. England swore. America sat down next to him.

"Okay. How drunk are you?" he bluntly asked.

England just reached for the drink.

"Hey!" America protested, trying to grab it out of his hands. England let him get it, having just realized that this situation presented an interesting opportunity.

"Fine," he grumbled. "You drink it. I've had enough anyway."

America stared at him suspiciously.

"You're not going to get drunk off just one drink," England scoffed. Not that it would matter.

America held it, still not quite willing to test England's assertion.

"I'm not going to waste perfectly fine sake," England said, reaching for the drink again.

"Oh, no you don't!" America replied, keeping it away from him.

It was almost a scold.

"I can judge what I can handle myself," England snapped. "Now give it to me."

"Nuh-uh," America replied. "You gave it to me, I'll drink it!"

He did. England saw his eyes widen and couldn't resist a small, quickly concealed smirk. He knew full well that America's sobriety was screwed from the moment he'd tasted the sake.

Because when it came to physically addicting people, coffee had nothing on alcohol.

"…Woah," America said, sounding a bit dazed. "That's really good stuff."

England struggled to wipe the smirk off his face again.

"I can't believe I've never asked Japan about sake before…man. Hey, bartender! Can you get me some of this to go?"

England felt a stab of guilt. America just sounded so… utterly inexperienced and childish_. I mean, he's NEVER had sake before? And 'to go'? Really? _

England wasn't the only one who thought America's phrasing was odd. The bartender asked for an ID, and (somewhat to England's mild surprise) America successfully procured England's.

"Heh," America snickered, looking at England's ID.

"What?" England asked suspiciously.

"Twenty-three?" America snickered. "Really? ID's are supposed to be _believable_, England."

"Twenty-three is perfectly realistic!" England snapped.

"Nah. _40_ would be believable. _50_ would be realistic," America laughed.

"_Twenty-three is fine!_ Who here just got carded, anyway?"

"Because I always get carded," America exaggerated. "It's just something they know. I swear, I think the Prez has rigged my ID to give off subliminal radio signals or something."

That gave England some pause for thought. Subliminal radio signals and all the other conspiracy theories that America was still spewing were just stupid ideas (as evidenced by the fact that America was still carded despite not having said ID on him), but it was true that even in switched bodies, the bartender had known exactly which one of the nations really _ought_ to be under the legal limit.

_Just because America phrased his order oddly,_ England told himself.

But that wasn't just it. England hadn't been carded, despite the fact that he knew America looked younger than him (though that didn't mean he looked like he was _fifty_, dammit).

Except apparently, right now he didn't.

_It's body language_, he realized. _Even if I physically don't look it, I carry myself like..well…like I really am old._

It was something of a depressing thought.

America was saying something idiotic. England decided to continue to tune him out.

At some point, the bartender had brought the bottle of sake. England grabbed it before America noticed that it had been brought. Annoyingly, the younger nation did notice the movement.

"No," America resolutely commanded, putting his hand on the bottle.

"You're not my guardian. I'm 50, remember?" England bitterly echoed.

"You are not getting drunk as me. I know what you're like when you're drunk, and, being the hero I am, I feel compelled to save these poor civilians from seeing how much worse things get when you're capable of breaking walls and throwing couches."

England stared at him.

America ended on a more teasing note. "I mean, honestly. You're supposed to be the responsible one here. I'm just the brat, remember?"

_Bloody hell, I hate it when he actually has a decent point. I really should have thought of that._

Well, he had, somewhat. But it was more in the 'America's going to have a hard time dragging me back _now _Muah-hah-ha' vein of thought than the 'I could end up really hurting people and it would be massively irresponsible for me to do this' one.

…_And did he just admit to being irresponsible?_

America took a swig of the sake.

"So much for being to-go," England remarked.

"Just a little bit," America muttered.

…_That's part of why I've never seen him drunk. He really can't afford to…_

"If you drink much more of that, I'm not letting you drive home," England scolded.

"I can do what I want to," America petulantly insisted. "Bartender! Get me another!"

"I'm the responsible one here, remember?" England reminded him.

"Yep," America replied, downing the rest of the second bottle.

"Wait—hey! Don't use that as an excuse!"

"Why not?" America asked, reaching for his third glass.

"Because…you should _try_. You know?"

"You don't."

"Yes, I do!"

"Sure don't do a very good job of it, then," he teased.

"What are you _talking_ about? I do a much better job than yo—"

"The number of times I've had to pull you out of a bar suggests otherwise."

"But…but…" England trailed off.

…_but what about everything else?_ Somehow, the question had expanded beyond responsible drinking habits.

"Heh," America laughed, having finished his third. "I wo-on."

"Shut up," England snapped. "You haven't."

America ignored him. "Hah…" he exhaled. His face was starting to look a little flushed. England recognized the tell-tale signs of his constitution beginning to give out.

And he was curious. He couldn't help it. He wanted to know what America was like when he got drunk. For once, _he _was going to be the one dragging America out of the bar, not the other way around.

England discreetly ordered another round.

_Guess we're walking home tonight._

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-..-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

A/N:

Given how differently England behaves under the influence of alcohol, it's not surprising that he'd be curious about America.

I'm ignoring the language barrier here and all the other problems that should arise what with this being a bar in Japan for the sake of humor.

England's 'human' age really is 23. Yes, only 4 years higher than America's.

In an example of how Hetalia makes boring facts much more interesting: If you look at Wikipedia's map of the legal blood alcohol limits in Europe, you'll notice that England has the highest _of all of them_. Yes, including France, Germany , and Russia* (though I suppose that last one might just not mind breaking any laws). I laughed out loud when I saw that. Honestly, England…

*But not including one tiny country down under Russia (Armenia) that he tied with that I'm not sure should count as part of Europe. Incidentally, America has the same legal limit as England as well (.08).

I've never actually consumed alcohol in any measurable quantity before, nor ever spent much time in a bar, so a lot of this is somewhat speculative. Have you ever spent a fair bit of time in a bar? I'm curious.


	36. Singing Silliness

Hi! This is my first update on my original schedule in a while. Wrote it during a break while studying for finals. You could say that it's to celebrate the two hundredth review (thank you, trappedinmyself1!).

Enjoy!

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It didn't take much more alcohol before America stopped muttering inanely and started shouting (or worse, _singing_) inanely.

"_99 bottles of beer on the wall! 99 bottles of beer!_"

"Okay, you've had enough," England decided, pulling the bottle out of his hand.

"Duude! Why?" America whined, grabbing for the missing article.

"Because you are _horribly tone deaf_. I cannot stand hearing my voice abused like that."

"Am not!" America protested. He turned his attention to the rest of the bar. "You! I sing fine, s'that a right?"

He broke out into a chorus of God Bless America. England plugged his ears, as did a few random bar patrons.

"I am regretting this already," England informed him. America either didn't hear or ignored him.

"…Laaaand that I _luuuv_, stand beeside hurrr, and guide hur, Thru the nigh—Wait, that song calls me a girl!" America indignantly interrupted himself.

England was just happy to hear him stop abusing his vocal cords. "Yes. You couldn't have picked a worse one."

"Reeaaally," America grinned lopsidedly.

_Oh no._

"It's _Fri-_day, _Fri-_day, _Fri-_day…"

"It's not even Friday, you moron," England groaned, giving in to the urge to bang his head against the bar table. _There is no way I'm THIS annoying when I'm drunk._

"C'mon, sing it with me!" America laughed, slapping England on the back.

"That's not happening," England deadpanned.

"Laaaame, dude. Twin guy. Kan..sus? Whatever."

"…Wait, what did you just call me?" England asked.

He was a bit late. America had already jumped up and strutted to the center of the bar.

"YO PEOPLES! Who here's gonna be less lame than that dude? You pick the song!" He even winked at a girl who was starting to look a bit interested.

"I am not lame!" England protested. "I can sing better than you do!"

"Prove it," America challenged, flashing one of those megawatt grins that it still freaked England out to see on his face.

England hesitated. There was a bar full of people watching him.

"Kneew it," America practically sang. "SO! Who here's takin' the challen-"

"Shut up," England growled.

"Naaah," America grinned back. "I don' wanna." He grabbed the microphone off a karaoke machine that someone had rolled out (England silently cursed whoever that was to injury, disease, and other assorted unpleasantries.).

America started singing (technically. England thought it would more accurately be termed 'screeching') into the wrong end of the microphone. To a heavy metal song that England couldn't believe was actually on the machine.

A little bit later, after the alcohol had had a bit more time to get into his system, England decided that America's misuse of his voice was too much to take and forgot the crowd.

"You tone-deaf idiot," he hissed, standing up and ripping the microphone out of America's hands, "_I'll _show you how… to sing." He paused there, as his slightly alcohol fuzzed-brain reminded him that there was something dangerous about that '_sing'_ thing.

"Hey! Don't grab the mike if you're not gonna (hic) sing!"

"I see you don't pay any more attention to me when you're drunk," England deadpanned, a bit of real bitterness sneaking into his sarcastic tone.

"Gimme," America demanded, reaching for the microphone. England held it up as high as he could, watching with growing amusement as America struggled to bridge the height difference, standing on his toes and flailing for the device.

Equally suddenly, he sat down on the floor.

"When did you get taller than me?" America wasn't looking at England, or, really, at anything but the wall, and it came out more as a question to himself than to England, who decided to set the karaoke machine to something decent.

"I mean, I totally …told you something. Yah. But you didn't… YES! SHOES!"

America was getting quite a few weird looks by that point.

England ignored him and scanned the song selection. _C'mon, they have to have SOMETHING by the Beatles… _

America put a hand around one of England's shoes and gave it a scrutinizing look.

"Sneakers!" He proudly pronounced. England kicked him off.

…_Well, something by the Beatles that isn't BLATANTLY a love song…that could be awkward later…_

"Ooow…That was loooow, Canny. Candy. Really looow."

"You're pretty low. Now shut up."

"Exactly! …Wait."

_Ah ha. Found one._

"What're—"

England sang.

"_You tell me that you've got everything you want/And your bird can sing/But you don't get me, you don't get me…"_

He stumbled a bit. Having a different voice did tend to cause that sort of thing.

"_You say you've seen seven wonders and your bird is green/But you can't see me, you can't see me…"_

"Well duh—"

"_When your prized possessions start to wear you down/Look in my direction, I'll be round, I'll be round…"_

He had started to get over the stumbles.

"_When your bird is broken will it bring you down/You may be awoken, I'll be round, I'll be round…"_

By this point, most of the bar was quiet, even America, because unlike America, England actually did know something about singing, and was pretty darn good at it.

"_You tell me that you've heard every sound there is/And your bird can sing/But you can't hear me, you can't hear me."_

…not that many nations _knew_ that, because it was generally something he _did not do in public_.

Except he just had, and everyone was staring at him.

_Oh. …Bloody hell._

Several people started applauding.

England knew his face was lighting up red.

_OHGOD IAM __**NOT**__ DRUNK ENOUGH FOR THIS _

Some girl started walking toward him.

"I HAVE TO GO TO THE RESTROOM!" he screeched, racing for the named location.

He slammed the door behind him.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-..-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

America shrugged. _Twin = gone. =…FUN!_

"SoooO!" he drunkenly proclaimed, grinning. "Who's up next?"

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-..-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

A/N:

Given that it's clearly somewhat new to England to be only _somewhat_ drunk (as opposed to totally out of it and acting like a massive punk), this sort of thing was almost bound to happen. And yes, those are lyrics from an actual Beatles song. It's called "And your bird can sing." Feel free to attach any significance you desire to the lyrics.

England has sung before in the anime (campfire song, that one lullaby for America), and I figured the Beatles had to come from somewhere. That's why I assumed he could sing. Well, because of that plus the art on his character CD.

Lots of songs refer to nations as female. I'd like to plug Car's hilarious one-shot "Stand Beside Her and Guide Her," which deals with America's attempts to get the 'she' taken out of God Bless America. Car's on my favorite author list; you might have to scroll down a ways to get to that story, though, it's a fairly old one of hers.

Also, it bothers me a little when people consistently have Hetalia characters refer to Canada as Canadia in their fics, for a couple of reasons. For one, I've never heard of that misspelling outside of Hetalia fanfic (although it apparently was used in episode 44 of the dub—thanks, Sora Resi—though that still doesn't mean it was used in real life, and it only happened once), so it seems like the author used it _just_ because they didn't want someone to refer to Canada correctly, but didn't want them to totally forget him either, and didn't bother to think about what someone might realistically come up with in that sort of scenario. The problem is that when they use it _consistently_ (which many do), it doesn't seem like the other countries actually forgot Canada's name (after all, they remembered it perfectly except for _one letter_) and more like they're just being spiteful. That, and it seems a bit uncreative; I mean, I've already come up with three different ways to get it wrong, and will probably have to come up with more. That said, please don't be offended if you've used Canadia in a fic before; it does have its virtues as something of a fandom in-joke, and it's ridiculous to expect anyone to put as much thought into this as I have here (Wow, this really did get long).

All that said, I'm still trying to figure out whether I should do the full lines or the -.-.-.- things. Or if I should use a different version of the -.-.-.-.- lines, like ~!~!~!~!~!~!~ or something. Please review if you have an opinion. Or if you just like the fic.

Happy holidays, everyone!


	37. America Way Under the Influence

Dear Guest: Why so certain that America would call England Britain, not UK? England's probably given America his proper name at some point (probably several points, actually, if America's ever come up with an unflattering nickname for him, which he probably did at some point), which America easily shortened into UK. That's my reasoning, anyway. Regardless, thanks for the review.

Dear USA Guest: Thanks for the review! I'm glad you like the fic. As for stereotypes, I doubt that is, by definition, what the countries think of each other in Hetalia, though it certainly is often true (for example, England's interactions with America as opposed to Japan correspond remarkably well with the two countries' (different) stereotypes about the English, though this may be an overly good example, as Japan and the US are the two countries the author has lived in). I just doubt that a personification's opinion of another personification _always_ corresponds well with what their people's base opinion of that country's people is. After all, some of them no doubt work together fairly frequently/closely, which would suggest that they'd get a more thorough impression than conveyed by stereotypes. All that said, it could certainly be funny to write a fic on that premise—titled something along the lines of 'How Stereotypes Get Started,' and all about the opinions the nations have for each other and the situations that caused those opinions. Dibs! (_Kidding_. I have my hands full with life and this fic.) Speaking of which, if anyone does write a fic along those lines, please PM me, I'd like to see it.

Wow, I had some long responses to anonymous reviews there. Happy new year, everyone! Enjoy!

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England downed his face in the sink's cold water, having put America's glasses on the stand. _What was I THINKING... _

He looked up into the mirror, only to be unhappily reminded that the bodyswap problem was still not fixed.

_Oh yeah_, he sarcastically reminded himself, _I wasn't_.

Every bit of America's hair was dripping water down his face—except, of course, Nantucket, which managed to remain spitefully uptight and cheery.

England glared at it. It refused to budge.

In fact, in his opinion, its slightly sputtering waving was strikingly similar to someone sticking their tongue out. _Nyah-nyah-neh-eh-eh-heh_. Or maybe neener-neener, since the bloody nuisance was American.

England sighed and gave up, soaking his head with water again.

His eyes flew open as he suddenly heard the bathroom door open, and, accompanying it, the clack of high-heeled shoes and a dangerously high-pitched voice.

England bolted for a stall, cursing himself for not noticing that he'd run into the wrong restroom and reluctantly thanking the establishment for setting up a restroom in which the stalls were not immediately visible from the door.

_I seriously need to get out of America's body_, he thought morosely. _First the stupid hair, now this…I swear, it's rubbing off on me. Any more and I'll start spouting crap about hamburgers and superheroes._

He shuddered at the thought.

He quickly realized that there were actually two girls (_Why do they have to travel in packs? Heh.)_ who started to chatter about hair and who was doing what with who.

And kept talking. And talking. And talking.

_Go to the restroom and leave already!_ England silently screamed, struggling with the urge to take his frustration out on something, anything. _What the heck are they doing, anyway?_

He risked a peak through the stall crack.

The girls were putting on makeup and doing each other's hair.

_Oh #$%,_ England thought, slumping back down onto the toilet seat. _I might be stuck here for hours._

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-. .-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

It had been a fairly quiet bar when the two nations had come in.

This was no longer true.

Most of the people had been sitting down when they came in.

This was also no longer true.

The bar tender sighed, looking at the haphazardly shoved-away tables and overturned chairs and the multitude of people dancing to rowdy music in the center of the bar who were rapidly spreading the mess. It was good to see everyone having fun, but he knew he'd have quite a mess to clean up after hours tonight. He glanced toward the restrooms, wondering if the blue-eyed man who had fled after singing would emerge and drag out the large-eyebrowed one who'd started all this. Given that said blue-eyed one seemed to have dug himself a hole in the restroom, or else had a very severe case of diarrhea, it didn't seem likely.

A lamp got dented by a carelessly flung arm with a loud bang.

_Someone's going to have to pay for that_, thought the unenthusiastic bartender_. _

He grabbed the phone under the counter and dialed.

"Yes?...Yes, this is the owner of the bar you saw recently. I just wanted to check that my insurance premiums are paid up…Why?...Oh, nothing…."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-..-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

America was thoroughly enjoying himself.

He wasn't completely sure what he was doing. The room was spinning more than a bit, there were weird splotches of color swimming through the air, and he_ knew_ that alien was not supposed to be standing on the ceiling. That space was reserved for Spider-man, _duh_.

But whatever he was doing, it sure was fun. He winked at a girl who briefly rubbed against him, and she giggled.

He grabbed her arm and swung her around, laughing until he tripped and sent them both tumbling down on top of each other. They snickered, drunkenly high-fived (resulting in something more like a forcibly inflicted facepalm on the girl's part) and picked themselves up.

He staggered around a bit more, tried to grab a colorful balloon that someone blew up, realized it was actually a lamp, and jumped back, briefly screaming out the pain of touching the rather hot light fixture, before stumbling over to the karaoke machine.

_..Prettty …music…._

He sat down in front of it, somewhat hypnotized by the pretty flashing lights. Flashflashflash.

"HeheHe. Hic."

He reached out to grab the pretty little colorful words, and ended up knocking the thing over, where it continued to spew forth music.

Disappointed by the sudden lack of lights flashing in front of him, he struggled back up and went off to see if that one chick would dance with him again. She was cute. America decided he liked her.

He soon found another girl and proffered his arm, but was, sadly, shot down, at which point he put on such a dejected face that the girl reluctantly agreed to a short spin.

America was careful not to step on her toes or anything, and it wasn't long before the girl started enjoying herself a bit more.

Even so, she soon inched her way out of his grip and back to her boyfriend. America, saddened, worked his way back to the bartender to demand another bottle of sake.

"Don't you think you've had enough?" The bartender cautiously asked.

"Heck no!" America loudly proclaimed. "It'd take waaaaay more than this to get **the hero** down!"

The bartender stared at him like he was delusional. To be fair, it wasn't an entirely unjustified presumption.

"Gimme," America whined.

"…I think you should go see your friend first," the bartender stated.

"…Friend?" America replied, feeling confused.

"You know. The one that went to the bathroom?"

"Oh yeaaaah. Canky. Cranky? Heh. That dude. Whatever. Okay!"

"Good luck!" The bartender said, pushing the country off the stool and guiding him in the direction of the bathroom.

America stumbled off in the right direction.

"Thank goodness," muttered the bartender, who was rather relieved.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-..-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

A/N:

The "Why do they have to travel in packs?" bit was a quote from the Harry Potter movie (the fourth one).

I liked this chapter, honestly. And there's a blink-and-you'll-miss-it setup for a funny incident I'd like to write down the road.

Cool, my end author's note is fairly short. I think that's generally what you're supposed to shoot for.


	38. Bad Experiences in Bathrooms

The chapter's up. Enjoy!

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England had been hiding in the toilet stall for _far too long_ when he finally heard the door slam closed once.

_Oh thank goodness, finally._

The door opened and slammed again.

_That must be both of them._

He opened the stall door, only to see the same two girls, one having just returned with another bag of accessories that she was now opening up. Seconds later, the first one spotted him in the mirror.

"Heeey, look!" she shouted, pointing. "It's that hot guy who sang the Beatles song! What are you doing in—"

Mortified, England sprinted for the exit. The second girl laughed something about cute guys getting drunk.

England nearly took the door off its hinges.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-..-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

America, meanwhile, had in fact made it into the right restroom. That, however, marked the end of his cognitive successes.

"Friend dude? Are you heeeere?" he called out, staring at the wall.

Nobody answered, though, even though he could have sworn that one guy peeing was the right size. America tapped that guy on the shoulder, making him jump and…well, the golden arc followed the normal laws of physics. Several curses later, America was certain that the peeing guy was not, actually, the one he was looking for. _Very_ certain.

So he started checking under the few stalls. After getting kicked in the face by the guy in the one that was occupied, he decided to forget about finding whoever.

"I don't feel so good…" he mumbled.

The guy who had just finished peeing inched a bit farther away.

America vomited into the nearest receptacle, which happened to be a sink.

"Whoa! Do it in one of the stalls, #$%!" the other guy called, making a beeline for the exit. He reached for the door, only for it to slam open as England walked inside.

"Have you seen a—"

"Fuzzy-eyebrowed #$% who had too much to drink? Yeah, your friend's right over there, _singer_. You keep the guy under better control if you come back here again." The guy marched past England in a huff.

"You rude little—" England turned around, but the other man had already disappeared into the crowd of bar patrons. He briefly wondered if America got that sort of reaction when England ended up drunk with him. He pushed that thought to the back of his head.

England turned the corner and gagged at the smell. America was hacking and coughing over a sink that looked like it had been vomited into repeatedly.

"Oh, great," England sarcastically muttered. "You look pathetic, by the way."

He quickly regretted the second sentence. It was impossible to insult the moron without a really annoying part of him making uncomfortable comparisons.

The guy who had been in the stall emerged, took one look around, and decided to forego washing his hands. America's head tilted in the direction of the movement.

"Canaaadiaaaa?" he said hopefully, before turning back to the sink to vomit one more time.

England blinked a few times before remembering all the weird names America had called him earlier.

_Oh yeah... He doesn't recognize me because of the swap. Still…who exactly does he think I am? He called me his twin earlier, I think…I think I would know if he had a twin, though… _He decided to check his recollection.

"Um," England asked. "What did you call me?"

"You're my twin. Syrup dude. Whisper guy."

It took several more awkward minutes until England was somewhat ashamed to remember that America did have a twin, whom he had apparently forgotten about.

America whined something more and staggered up.

"I think that's …all the nasty stuff," he huffed. "I found you!"

He quickly proved himself wrong about having expelled all the vomit, however.

"_No, don't_—Oh, why'd you have to do it in a second sink?" England complained.

"Was close," America wheezed.

England sighed and started the water running in the first sink. This was going to be a long night.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-..-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

A/N:

Hi. What'd you think of the chapter?

…Need to go do homework now (that's why this chapter's short.)…bleargh.


	39. Cloudy Mirror on the Wall

Hi! Well…that's pretty much it. This didn't come out at the start of the month because I've been pretty busy. But it's here now! Enjoy!

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England grabbed a handful of paper towels and started working on the sink.

He was a bit disappointed, actually. He hadn't known what he'd expected America to act like when he was drunk, but he had expected something…different. Having found out that America was basically just…himself, except even more annoying and less coordinated, he now halfway wished he had just chucked the sake aside and gone back with America before any of this embarrassment had happened.

_I should have known better_, he thought to himself. _What was I expecting? That he'd get more _serious_? That hardly makes sense._

He decided not to examine his motives too closely. He'd been a bit drunk himself, and hadn't thought it through. That was all.

"Ooookay," a still-somewhat-loopy America said, straightening up in an awkward movement, "Back to the part—Oh CRAP! YOU'RE HERE!"

"What? Who?" England asked, briefly scanning the restroom to confirm that nobody else had come in. Nobody had.

He looked back to America, who was backing away from the sink, looking a little scared and keeping his eyes on the mirror.

"America, there's nobody here except us. Wait, is there a ghost?" He followed America's eyes up to the mirror and only saw their two reflections. _Then again, I have no way of knowing, since I can't see anything mystical right now…but then again, he apparently recognized it and was afraid of it and didn't refer to it as an 'it,' and I can't think of anything that he'd logically react that way to…_

America tried to bolt out of the restroom and ended up falling over backward. England sighed. He bent down and toweled off the dirtier parts of America, before helping him up. America moaned a bit, but otherwise seemed content to let England hoist him to his feet.

"Where'd he go?" America mumbled, glancing around.

"Who?" England impatiently prodded.

"I thought I saw Britain…" America whimpered.

"…What?" England asked, startled.

"Back in the mirror…" America tried to twist around to see the mirror.

…_He forgot about the swap, so he confused his own reflection with me. What an idiot._

England started quickly pushing him out of the bathroom, not anxious to deal with another freak out. The owner could deal with the sink.

America kept trying to wiggle out of his grasp, looking nervous.

"Look," England mumbled, trying to get America to stop struggling, "I'll ...uh…protect you from England, okay?"

It felt horribly wrong to say. A long time ago, he'd told America he'd protect him from many things, but never from himself.

…_I really need to watch my temper while I'm in this body,_ he guiltily reflected.

England noticed that America had stopped trying to escape. He looked down and saw that the younger nation's eyes were lidded. He looked exhausted and ready to fall asleep.

_He probably is,_ England realized. _It's night out, and he's been doing who-knows what…_

The bar was full of dancing people. England could hardly recognize the quiet little place he'd stopped by for a quick drink an hour or so earlier.

He suddenly remembered that Japan was probably worried sick and reached for his phone. After a bit of scuffling around, he found America's, which Japan must have helpfully deposited into the clothes before they woke up.

Shifting America to one arm, he called Japan. The phone was answered before the second ring.

"America?" Japan asked. "Or is this England?"

"England," England replied. He decided to sit down in a booth to make the phone easier to hold.

"Ah. I trust you are doing well?" England sensed that Japan didn't really want to discuss the night's events at that point in time.

"Of course." England didn't either.

"Is America with you? He ran out of the house right after you left."

"…Yes. He's fine too. We're going to finish up here and then come back. That might be a little while, though."

"How late? Should I hide the keys to the front door somewhere?"

"…Aaah…" England stalled, sizing up the damage to the bar. "…That might be a good idea."

"I'll leave them beneath the last of the potted plants leading up to the door, presuming you know the spot."

"I know the spot."

"Is there anything else I could do to help? I think America drove his car over; do you need somebody to drive it back?"

"No, just get some sleep. America's going to wake up at some point, and I doubt anybody else will be sleeping much when he does."

"He's asleep? Didn't he have coffee just an hour or so ago?"

"…It was a rough night. For him in particular, obviously," England huffed, thinking of all the problems America had caused. If he had to pay for that lamp, America was going to have more than a hangover to worry about when he woke up.

"Aah, of course," Japan stammered, sounding a little frightened.

England wondered briefly about that, before realizing that Japan probably interpreted his statement to mean that England had knocked America unconscious.

England decided to let the interpretation stand.

The bartender was walking towards them, looking somewhat displeased.

"Japan, I think I have to go. See you tomorrow morning? Or sooner, I suppose."

"Let's hope for 'tomorrow morning,'" Japan replied. Then he hung up the phone. England smiled a little, detecting a little of the nearly undetectable sarcasm that America tended to bring up in even the most polite of nations. Like himself, of course. It was always nice to be reminded that he wasn't the only one.

He put the phone back in the pocket it came from, and glanced at the bartender, who looked both busy and distinctly unpleased with the current situation.

_You know what_, he decided, _I'm just going to sit here for a minute_.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-..-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

A/N:

The last several chapters have really been seesawing back and forth between serious and funny, haven't they? It's going to stay that way for a little while, too. Drunk nations tend to encourage that. Hopefully, the comedy is funny and the drama is interesting.

Also, England, I don't think you can reasonably blame America for your sarcasm. You do that just fine by yourself. XD


	40. The Bartender's Lot

Ten more chapters until chapter 50! That'll be a real milestone. I can't believe this fic has lasted nearly fifty chapters and still has so many more to go.

Premature celebrating notwithstanding, I don't have much else to say. Hope you like the chapter.

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England turned his eyes to the bartender, who had gotten caught up in the crowd, trying to decide if it would be a better idea to try and pay his tab and leave or go home, wait until tomorrow, and then come back to pay, giving the bartender some time to calm down a bit.

It was odd to be consciously deciding that. He usually had to come back, having spent the last bit of the night doing rather undignified things outside of the bar.

He decided to confront the bartender immediately. He'd probably be busy trying to keep America out of trouble as soon as the brat woke up, so he shouldn't count on being able to return without incident.

_Plus, I'm America right now. I mean, what's he going to do? Slug me in the gut as hard as he can? He'd be more likely to break his fingers than actually inconvenience me._ (England knew from personal experience. America had laughed hysterically for hours on end.)

Once again, England reflected on how nice it was to be in the opposite position now. He had always tried to put America on the right track, and now he actually succeeded, somewhat.

_Who knows, after tonight, he might actually behave when I _ask_ him too! Wouldn't that be just perfect._

Though really, it wouldn't be.

England tried to distract himself from the sudden, wrenching feeling in his gut, and failed.

He looked back at America, who was fitfully sleeping beside him on the booth.

It was easy to forget that some of the most defining things about America were the things he didn't do.

"I'm being sentimental," England mumbled to himself. At least America wasn't awake to see it.

_I should deal with the bartender first_, he resolutely decided.

England left America on the booth and went to talk to the bartender, who looked at him with a mildly disgusted expression. _Well, better than I'm used to._

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The tall blue-eyed one was finally out of the bathroom, to the bartender's relief. He decided to keep an eye on him until the two paid their tab and left. On the plus side, the bushy-eyebrowed one seemed to have knocked himself out with alcohol. That said, he knew he'd also have to watch that punk with the pink hair…he wasn't even sure when that one had shown up. That chick from the next block over in the red high heels was definitely suspicious, too. And he knew he'd have to keep his eyes on let's-see-how-many-harassement-laws-I-can-break-wi thout-going-to-jail.

The bartender had never been good with names.

"Yo, barkeep…what's the talk?" hicced one of his drunker patrons, sliding his chair with a nasty squeeek over the floor.

"I don't really do that sort of thing," the bartender flatly replied.

"Then how am I s'pposed to go on an adventure?" floor-scratcher demanded. _Great. Two hero wannabe's in one night. _

"Well, the alcohol can get you pretty far out. Want another glass?"

Hey, he was a successful business man for a reason.

"Naaahh…" floor-scratcher lolled. He had rather greasy looking hair, somewhat like he had been trying to shine it with French fries.

The bartender scanned his bar. Red-high-heels was dancing vigorously.

A few minutes of peace passed. The bartender did his best to look alert.

Floor-scratcher shattered his glass. The bartender nearly jumped. _Nearly. _Because really, he was far more used to this sort of thing by now than he had really ever wanted to be. 'Quiet, formal atmosphere' wasn't something often said about bars. Still, he tried to keep things reasonable.

"AHA! Glass mage, you are slain! I AM KING!" shouted floor-scratcher.

"Look, that's nice, but you just broke a glass," the bartender returned, anxious to prevent any more damage to property.

"Come FORTH, evil-doers! I am ready to DUEL!" he bellowed.

"Look!" the bartender replied, spinning floor-scratcher around to face sexual-harassment-guy, who was just slipping his hands down a lady's back. "A damsel in distress! Go thither!"

"AAAAARRRGH!" floor-scratcher shouted, charging in the general direction. The woman and harassment-guy took one look and ran for it.

The bartender smirked. Encouraging fights was generally a really bad idea, but both of them had it coming.

Next to him, someone snickered. The bartender turned to face the blue-eyed singer that had apparently snuck up on him in the middle of that mess.

"That was bloody hilarious," singer chuckled. "I'm going to have to remember that trick."

"Your friend's one of those types, huh? The sort that only lives in the center of their version of the universe?"

"Big time. Even when he _isn't_ drunk." The bartender winced in sympathy.

"Well, I can't say I'm surprised," the bartender replied, remembering **the hero's** antics.

"Did he cause any serious trouble?" singer warily enquired, clearly worried.

"…Nothing the insurance can't pay for," the bartender sighed, deciding to take pity on the man. "Though I'd still appreciate it if you got him out of here."

"I'm planning to do just that."

"Excellent."

Singer paid their tab and, after casually slinging his friend over his shoulder with one arm (an act of strength which drew some impressed looks and one incredibly awkward attempted bro-fist), he walked out the door.

A few seconds later he stuck his head back in.

"I NEARLY FORGOT," he yelled over the crowd, "I CLEANED UP ONE OF THEM, BUT THERE'S STILL A SINK IN THE MALE RESTROOM THAT NEEDS SOME ATTENTION."

Then he actually left. The bartender groaned, having enough experience to be pretty sure someone was going to be cleaning up a sink full of vomit tonight after-hours.

"I should have made him pay for the lamp," the bartender grumbled.

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A/N:

Since it probably won't be brought up again in the fic, what happened when England hurt himself trying to punch America (which is not typical, contrary to his earlier musings):

He only broke his fingers, but ended up getting a misleadingly large cast, leading to everyone else thinking he'd broken his entire arm. Much of the rest of the world found England's feat both utterly hilarious and pretty impressive ("Thumbs up, England! Except, you know. Hahaha). France wrote something perverted on his cast (which was swiftly covered with white out), and America wrote something along the lines of 'PROOF THAT AMERICA IS THE GREATEST SUPERPOWER EVER XD,' which wasn't whited out, because it wasn't very legible and took up so much space that nobody else could write anything insulting on the cast.

You know, that could be expanded into a decent ficlet of its own. That said, it probably will remain a little bonus bit of backstory for those who read the author's note.

Speaking of, how many of you do read my author's notes? I think most of the frequent reviewers do, but I've had at least one person ask me a question that was explained in an author's note.

Also, seeing as England and America are now leaving the bar: What did you think of this part of the story? Are you happy to see them go, or would you like to see more alcohol later?


	41. Complicated Curiosity

Dear lilypop748: I'm not sure how Japan would end up drinking…he seems a bit too responsible for that. I'll make a note of it, though.

To everyone else: I'm sorry this is coming out so late in the month. A combination of AP tests and a fried hard drive on my computer kept me from posting before now. But the chapter for this May, 2013, is here now—enjoy!

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England closed the door behind him, heaving a sigh of relief. He was _finally_ out of there. Not for the first time, and almost certainly not for the last, he vowed never to enter a bar again.

He decided he wasn't too drunk to drive. After all, he figured, if he was sober enough to consider the question, the answer was probably 'yes.'

He draped America over the back seat. He was sleeping quietly, peacefully. It was the sort of expression that would have managed to look out of place on either of the two nation's faces in modern ages. England was somewhat reminded of better times. _He looks so innocent and helpless…_

He abruptly blushed. America had hauled him out of a bar after he'd knocked himself out with alcohol several times. Was it always like this? For some reason, the thought bothered him.

He quickly laughed at his pretension. _Silly me. America probably wouldn't even bother to look me in the face. And I generally don't sleep that peacefully._

Though he had been sleeping better these past few days…perhaps it was the exercise. America could certainly be exhausting to keep up with.

He had absentmindedly opened the driver's door and stepped in, only to nearly trip over a plastic bottle lying on the floor. Cursing America's idiocy and irresponsibility, England rounded up the various items spewed out over the car floor. He opened the glove compartment, and was surprised to see a small purple unicorn figurine fall out.

_Huh. It's really cute_, he thought, holding it up to the light. _Someone must have ridden with America and left this here…maybe Poland. I should ask him the next time I see him._

It really was rather pretty, though, in its cartoonish way. _Maybe I should just keep it. Oh well, I'll try Poland, and if he doesn't know who this might belong to, I'll just keep it myself. I'll bet one of the fairies' kids will find it entertaining…it's about the right size for a mount for them, too._

He shoved it in one of the plentiful pockets in America's jacket, and shoved America's junk into the glove compartment.

Realizing that the key was missing, he turned around and rummaged through America's pockets until he found it. America stirred a bit, but didn't seem to wake up.

England turned on the car, and was rather surprised when, shortly thereafter, some very cold hands grabbed his face from behind and twisted it around. He yelped slightly at the cold.

"Polar bear weirdo. Good guy!" America happily decided, relaxing his grip. Apparently, he had been woken by the engine.

However, he still looked very, very drunk. England sighed. _Lovely. I thought I was going to get a nice, uncomplicated ride home tonight._

England yelped again as the ice-cold hands suddenly made contact again. America leaned over partway into the front seats, continuing to investigate with his hands on and around England.

"What the f—" England protested, feeling his face heat up.

"Awww, where's the polar bear? I can't find it! I liked him, too…" America complained.

"_Stop patting me down searching for polar bears!_ There is no polar bear!" England quickly exclaimed.

"What? But you always have that *hic* polar bear. Fuzzy little guy." America tried to climb all the way into the front seat, as England stubbornly applied a bit more force in the opposite direction. America reluctantly settled into the back seat, but continued leaning forward, apparently still interested.

England quickly tried to think of something to get America to shut up. _What the hell sort of person carries a polar bear around, anyway? Those things are vicious!_

"Polar bear?" America queried.

"Oh for goodness sakes," England snapped. "the polar bear is..uhh..not here!"

America looked at him quizzically. "Where is it, then?"

"It's …uh… at the zoo. That, uh, keeps it when I'm not caring for it."

"Ooooh. Can we go to the zoo? That sounds fun."

"No."

"Pleeease?"

"No. It's, uh, too late. Past operating hours. See?" he said, gesturing at the deepening darkness around them.

"Sneak in?" America suggested hopefully.

"No."

"Aww. You're no fun."

England decided to get the car ready before America could get it in his head to exit.

America yawned.

"Things are good! But my head feels weird," he complained, eyes squinting. "In a bad way. Uuuh. It's okay though!"

"Ugh," England grumbled, turning around to check on him—it would hardly do to get the car soaked in vomit, after all. He felt a bit more sympathetic when he saw America's pained, lidded expression. He knew how that felt.

"Sheesh, you look like you're going to black out any minute," England said, a touch of sympathy in his voice.

"How much did I have, anyway?" America mumbled.

"A lot," England unhelpfully offered. America muttered something unintelligible but clearly negative.

England racked his memory, trying to give him a more specific answer, and quickly realized that America really _had_ had a lot. Even by England's standards. Enough that it was really no wonder he was having such a hard time with the side-effects.

Enough that he probably wouldn't remember the night's events very clearly.

"Are we going somewhere?" America interjected.

England hesitated for a brief moment, then quietly replied, "Yes, but…could I ask you something?"

"Sure, what?" America replied, eyes suddenly open a bit more than England remembered.

"You know…England? What do you think of him?" It was an awkward question to force out, and he instantly regretted it. Especially since the answer was probably going to hurt.

"He can be a mean bastard sometimes," America grumbled. England winced a bit.

_Yup. Hurting already. What was I thinking?_

"And he hurt me! Like…*cough*… really hurt me! And I don't think it was an accident either!" America protested, suddenly both fearful and confused. "I'd never hurt him. hic. Not on purpose, anyway…"

That surprised England a little. He was a bit used to being hurt by America. Not physically, generally, but still. Maybe the brat really was just that much of an idiot.

"And I can't do…ooo..anything with him. Always too busy whenever I suggest anything. And always looking down on me. Smug jerk," America muttered.

"If you don't like him so much, then why are you friends with him?" England grumbled, resentful. Again, he instantly regretted it. What if America seriously considered the question? The possibility scared him.

"He's my friend," America replied matter-of-factly, as if that explained everything.

Which it didn't.

"I sort of count on him to be there when things mess up. He'll come and fight with me when a lot of the others won't… Ugh, my head's feeling weird again."

_He remembers that_, England thought, a little touched. He had nearly always tried to come, personally, when America got himself in some mess of a fight. "Plus, he's fun to tease," America added a little drunkenly, grinning slightly and looking like he was going to fall out of his seat at any minute.

"Yeah, I know," England added, a bit annoyed.

"And, ya know…other stuff…I'm gonna lie down now…"

He proceeded to do just that, moaning slightly.

England waited a few seconds, then strapped him in with the seatbelt and took off for Japan's house, quietly wondering about everything said that night.

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A/N:

It's generally considered a bad idea to leave stuff lying around on the floor in the front seat. It could get jammed behind the brake/gas pedal, or cause you to miss them as your foot stumbles around the stuff. It's a major driving hazard, and the sort of safety advice I can easily see America blowing off.

I vaguely remembered seeing in my US history textbook that several of the more modern (read: after WW2) wars were largely fought by the US and UK (and whatever factions of the neighboring countries that supported the intervention.). I checked this as I was writing this chapter; sure enough, the UK has made a disproportionately (compared to other European countries of similar population size) large contribution to the 'multinational forces' of several of the wars since WW2 that America's been involved in, including the Korean war, the Gulf war, the Iraq war, and several others (I got tired of checking them all, because it often took a bit of searching to find the actual numbers of the various nationalities in coalition troops), the Vietnam war being one notable exception. In reality, this presumably has to do with the historically close military ties of the US and UK, which translates into something sorta sweet when you think about Hetalia characters.

Have a good day!


	42. Empathy

Dear pewds 3: …What? Barrels…?

Hi. This is the first chapter of summer schedule, which, however, has been shockingly frantic. And we're leaving on some sort of trip on Thursday (I can't believe it's happening already) which means that I might not have a chapter put out next week.

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America was either asleep or unconscious by the time they got to Japan's house. England sighed and effortlessly picked him up. _It really is useful to be able to just MOVE people like this_, he reflected.

He fished the key out of the hiding spot and started walking towards the bedroom. Then he hesitated, and, smirking slightly, went back and left America on the same couch the younger nation had dumped England in earlier.

He then settled down, the entire bed to himself, first changing into some nightclothes that Japan had (rather thoughtfully, in England's opinion) left on the dresser.

He eventually fell asleep.

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England woke up in the middle of the night and flopped around a while, trying to get back to sleep. Eventually, he decided it was a futile exercise and got up, sighing. He might as well see if he could try to get something done.

So he started hunting for his cell phone.

England couldn't find it in the room, so he decided to check America. After all, he had found America's phone in his own pockets back at the bar—Japan must have simply gotten the two phones mixed up, or thought he would help the nations continue to hide their predicament.

America didn't look very comfortable on the couch. England hadn't put him down with much care; his neck was up against one armrest in a way that would probably hurt a bit in the morning, and one of his feet was draped off the side.

Feeling a bit guilty, England rearranged America so that he lay flat on the couch. He still didn't look that comfortable.

England started rummaging through America's pockets, but quickly stopped. His conscience had decided that it wasn't quite ready to shut up yet.

He stared at the little brat, frustrated. He had to leave America on the couch—how else was he going to learn his lesson about doing the same to England?

_I was a lot harder to carry, though_, England guiltily reflected.

He wondered why the ^&*% the brat had such a command over his sympathies. He certainly didn't deserve them. Even if this particular incident wasn't completely fair, England could think of plenty of other things America had done to him that justified a bit of vengeance.

England just stood there for about a minute.

Then he bent down, gently picked America up, and carried him to the bedroom.

England tucked him in under the covers. Deciding to give sleep one last try, England crawled in with him.

He quickly fell asleep.

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The first thing America registered, upon waking up, was that his head hurt.

Of course, he tried to go back to sleep, but it didn't work.

In fact, it only furthered his impression that _his head really hurt_.

"AAAAUUUUUUUGHHHHHHH!" he shrieked, frustrated.

He promptly winced and clapped a blanket over his ears, trying futilely to stop the effects of the brain-rattling sound.

_Why does my head hurt so much?_ America haplessly asked himself, flipping back onto his stomach to try and screen out the bit of painful light that somehow wormed its way into the otherwise dark room.

There was a crick in his neck that wouldn't straighten out, and his brain continued to ache. His eyes hurt, his throat felt dry, and his stomach felt forebodingly nasty. He had bruises everywhere. He desperately didn't want to move.

He whimpered into his pillow, disoriented and miserable.

Suddenly, the door swung open, and America dived under the covers, attempting to burrow his way into the mattress and _away from the light_.

The door closed most of the way.

"I see you're finally up," England commented.

_Too much light._

"_c'ose d' oor!"_ America incomprehensibly said through the covers and mattress.

"What did you say?" England asked, genuinely unsure.

"Close the door!" America quickly added, surfacing for a moment before hiding his head again.

"I did—oh. Sensitivity to light, yeah…" England closed the door all the way.

America heaved a sigh of relief.

"Heh. I seem to remember you calling me a wuss the last time I was hung up like this." England snickered. "Not so tough now, are you?"

America poked his head up from under the covers to give England a dirty look.

"Wuss."

"Be quiet. Your voice is annoying."

"Oh, yes, I'm well acquainted with that fact. In the future, when I ask you to just _shut up_ when I'm hungover, will you please actually _do it_?"

America considered briefly.

"If I say 'yes,' will you be quiet? And get me water?" he asked hopefully.

"Sure."

"Okay, whatever."

"…I'll take that as a yes. You might want to get under the pillows now; I'm opening the door again."

"Ugghhh," America moaned, pulling the sheets over himself again.

England left.

_Just what the heck did I DO_? America thought; his pained brain protested his attempts to process the situation, so he abandoned the question and went back to wallowing in the covers, fantasizing about how nice that water was going to feel when England finally got back.

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A/N:

And THIS is why alcohol can be a very bad idea. :)


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